Red and Black Harley
by Indigo-Night-Wisp
Summary: Rogue has never been a damsel-in-distress-someday-my-prince-will-come-back-for-me kind of gal. And she's got new friends, a pair of awesome leather boots, and 4,934 miles on Logan's motorcycle to prove it.
1. Prologue: The Note

**Disclaimer: Stan! Come on, it was only a misunderstanding, we can work this out! Come on, honey, let's go and talk about it. Just bring along the rights to X-Men: Evolution and we'll all have coffee, yeah?**

**A/N: Welcome to my latest WIP! I'm glad to be back among you all!**

**This fic is based off of a country song called "Little Red Rodeo" by Phil Vascal. Technically, it should be done from the guy's POV, but the idea first came to me while listening to the song as a Rogue-centric fic. (And yes, I am aware that in the 90's show, Rogue did actually have the perfect car for this song.)**

**This story is dedicated to everyone who ever read, reviewed, favorited, or alerted me and anything I've ever written. You are all awesome people, and I feel better for having met you. (Individual chapter dedications will be posted with their chapters.)**

**So, without further ado, I'd like to begin. Indy? Ash? Ya'll wanna say anything?**

**Indy? Ash?**

**They… don't appear to be around. Maybe next chapter?**

* * *

><p>Prologue: The Note<p>

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

The Xavier mansion sat silently on its carefully manicured lawn, surrounded by gates in the front and woods all around the back. There was no noise at all coming from the grounds, outside of the occasional wildlife. The inside was nearly as peaceful, the stillness broken only by the soft snores and grunts of the mansion's inhabitants. The entire Institute was in slumber.

Well, most of it.

A window, French doors actually, opened on a balcony above the pool. A tall, lean, catlike figure slipped out onto the balcony, and paused, glancing back over its shoulder into the room it had just exited. Then, shaking its head, it proceeded to grasp the railing and lightly flip over the edge of the thirty-foot high drop…

And land lightly on its feet, having caught a convenient tree limb just before hitting the ground.

The figure made its way quietly to the garage.

Two minutes later, a surprisingly quiet purr from a motorcycle hit the still night air and the shape sped down the drive and through the front gates, which opened and closed for him readily, as they did for all the mansion inhabitants with a pass code.

The figure spared only a one final glance over behind as it picked up speed. The lights on the Institute lawn briefly caught a shine of red eyes behind the helmet's visor before the dark form turned its head and shot off into the darkness, without looking back again.

* * *

><p>When Rogue awoke that morning, there was a note on her pillow.<p>

_Chere,_

_I realize that coming to the Institute was a silly thing for me to do. You know-you've gotta know-I only came in the first place to be near you. Roguey. Je t'aime, chere. I know you don't feel the same way, but I have to tell you. I'm leaving now, getting out of your hair like you wanted. But I just needed to tell you that._

_I love you, Rogue._

_Remy_

* * *

><p>Charles Xavier had been awoken in some odd ways in his time. He'd woken to high pitched sirens, explosions, screams, gunshots, crashes, students pounding through the halls, Ororo's soft voice apologizing for waking him, Kurt accidentally teleporting into his bed at three in the morning, and with a terrible headache shortly after meeting Logan's little clone. But he could honestly say, without hesitation, that the oddest way he'd ever woken up was to the sound of Rogue screaming curses in French, English, and some other language that sounded like South African, nearly drowning out Kitty's rather pathetic attempt at pacification.<p>

* * *

><p>"Rogue, calm down."<p>

The green-eyed Southerner glared at her friend and shrieked. "Calm down? Ah will _not _calm down! That lowlife, good for nothin', snake-charmin' Cajun is _gone_! An' he left a _note_!"

Kitty Pryde stared at her. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"No! It means he's a jerk, and too cowardly to face me, and that he snuck into our room last night while we were sleepin'. The note was on mah pillow!" Kitty's mouth opened in a little, round O.

Her furious face was streaked with tears. "Kitty… he is such an idiot!"

Her friend raised her eyebrows. "Okayyyy…"

Rogue began pacing. "Ah mean it! He's goin' on about how he knows Ah don' love him, an' he's accepted this as fact, an' God knows what else, an' he don' know _anything_! Hello? Who the halibut does he think he is? Ah do so lovehim! Where the heck does he get off tellin' me what Ah feel? Dagnabit, Remy LeBeau, if Ah wanna love you, Ah will, an' there's nothin' you can do about it!"

Kitty sat in shocked silence. Rogue and Remy's… connection was no secret. _Something_ had happened in Louisiana. He'd made no bones about the fact that he was completely head-over-heels for her ever since he'd arrived, not long after the defeat of Apocalypse, roaring up to the Institute gates on a red and black Harley, wearing his old brown trench coat and his trademark smirk, and requesting permission to join the X-Men. Rogue acted annoyed, but Kitty could tell she was secretly pleased.

He'd flirted at first, outrageously, with every female in the mansion that was over the age of fifteen. But mostly with Rogue. Most of them would titter and then go on their way, but Rogue would glare, and snipe, and act upset. Remy seemed to get a kick out of irritating her, and though she flatly denied it, Rogue liked the attention.

And then she started flirting back.

Remy left the others alone then. His sole focus was Rogue. His smooth words and smoldering looks were directed at her alone. The fact that he would never get to act on any of his many promises and innuendos if she didn't get her mutation under control didn't seem to bother him. He was dead-set on his goal: Rogue. And suddenly, her irritation seemed more put-on than anything else.

Still, while Remy's feelings were perfectly clear, Rogue's were somewhat ambivalent. She liked Remy, obviously; she was attracted to him; but she never actually gave him a definition of what they were: friends, teammates, pseudo-lovers, playful rivals. The main reason for this was one that was so straightforward, it was almost certainly one that Remy never thought of. Simply put, Rogue had issues with relationships. Her mother betrayed her, and then her first crush/dance/guy-showing-interest ended up in a coma for three weeks. Her crush on Scott came to a close with a burning crash of the only non-mutant (or so she thought) friendship she had, a massive melt-down, and the single-handed destruction of most of Bayville. She'd been used, abandoned, and juggled for her whole life, and thus had no idea what to do with someone who truly adored her. She felt something for him, but she wouldn't admit to it. So despite all of Remy's declarations of love, and the blatant desire and affection constantly in his eyes when he looked at her, she never said the words back, and never let on how she really felt.

And now, apparently, that was coming back to bite her in the butt.

"Ah love him, Kitty. Ah don' know how, or why-especially when he pulls stunts like this, but Ah do. Why- why did he leave?" she collapsed onto the bed next to her shocked friend. Kitty hesitated a minute and then tentatively put her arms around the sobbing Southerner.

Just as Kitty was beginning to wonder if she should go get Storm (the older woman was much better at dealing with girls crying over men-a fact Kitty could attest to personally), Rogue sat up straight, fire flashing in her green eyes.

"How _dare _he? Who does he think he is anyhow? We have somethin'. He tells me he loves me, and then runs off to God-knows-where? Ah don' think so."

She stood abruptly, accidentally knocking Kitty backwards on her bed. The little brunette watched her nervously as she began rifling through her closet.

"Um, Rogue?"

"Hmm?" the striped-haired girl's voice was muffled.

"What are you doing?"

* * *

><p>Logan paced the living room. Since Rogue had awakened the entire mansion (and probably half of Bayville) at seven-thirty that morning (except for himself, who got up at the crack of dawn every morning-and he'd tar and feather anyone who said otherwise), Logan had been on edge. He'd gone tearing into the girls' wing as soon as he heard the screams, but when Kitty's white face had stuck itself out of the door to announce that no one was being murdered, but he probably would be if he stuck around (Rogue was a little man-hostile right now) he'd retreated to the living room, where he now waited for the next explosion.<p>

All around him, mansion inhabitants lounged, stretched, sat, or lay on couches, the floor, and each other. Xavier had arrived soon after Logan, and Storm had been right behind him. They glanced at each other apprehensively, and settled in to wait. One by one, the other students had trickled in, until most of the mansion residents were present and accounted for.

Except for one.

Whispers were floating all around. Rogue hadn't exactly been quiet about the source of her ire, so pretty much everyone knew that Remy had taken off, leaving only a note for his chere. Jubilee and Amara claimed that it sounded romantic. Tabby rolled her eyes and stated firmly that she disagreed. Jean and Scott exchanged concerned glances. Kurt was scowling, a dark blue threat of vengeance complete with fangs perched on the arm of the couch. Bobby, Ray, and Sam were nearly oblivious, only barely paying attention, especially since they didn't pay much attention to Rogue and Remy anyway.

When Kitty dropped down into the room quietly, conversation slowed and soon stopped. They all waited for her to explain what was going on with the Gothic Southerner. Storm and Jean moved forward quickly, but she shook her head and glanced at the wide double doors. They all followed her gaze.

A minute later, Rogue pushed the door open and strode into the room, ignoring the instantly restarted buzz that followed her through the small crowd. They all got out of her way as she made her way to the fireplace where Logan had finally ceased pacing. Nobody wanted to cross her today.

She was dressed to go out, tight leather pants and a dark jacket over her usual green tank, feet in dark, leather, knee high boots, with a duffle bag slung across one-shoulder. Her hair was down on her shoulders, white stripes prominently on display.

"Rogue…" Storm moved forward, but stopped when the Professor touched her arm and shook his head.

Rogue glanced at her and gave her a small smile before turning back to Logan.

"Logan, Ah need a favor."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sure, Stripes, name it."

She cocked a hip. "Ah need to borrow your bike." Eyes widened and whispers started again. Borrowing Logan's bike was serious business.

"Rogue-"

"Please, Logan."

He sighed. Refusing Rogue was hard enough when her voice didn't crack as she spoke to him. Under the circumstances, it was out of the question. He pulled the key out of his pocket and dropped it into her gloved, outstretched hand. "Don't bang her up."

She smiled a real smile this time. "Ah won't." Turning to the professor, she said, "Professor, Ah'm goin' after Remy."

Xavier folded his hands under his chin. "I see."

Jean spoke up. "Rogue, he's hardly worth-"

Rogue turned to her. "You don' know that, Jean. You don't. He's worth it an' more. An' if Ah hadn't been so dang cowardly, there wouldn' be any need fo' this li'l trip. He's mine, Jean, an' if he thinks he's getting' away that easy, he's got another thing comin'."

The whole room stared at her. She flushed, but held her head high. "It's summer. School's out, an' Ah don' got any previous engagements planned. Ah'm goin' after Remy, jus' him an' me, an' Ah'm bringin' him back with me once Ah catch him." She gave Logan a quick hug. "Thanks for the bike, Logan. Ah'll take care of 'er, Ah promise." She hugged her brother and Kitty. "Take care ya'll."

"Rogue." The professor wheeled forward. Rogue put on a determined face. "Ya can't stop me, Professor. Ah'm goin'."

He waved his hand. "Oh, yes, quite, I know that. I was simply going to ask that you allow me to keep track of you via Cerebro."

Surprised, she said, "Oh…well, yeah, Ah guess that'd be fine. Sure thing." He smiled at her. "Have a good trip. I'll connect with you by telepathy at regular intervals, so don't be alarmed if you feel my presence in your mind at times." She nodded. "Gotcha."

Storm came forward to offer Rogue her arms. "Are you sure, Rogue? I know that Remy loves you, but are you absolutely sure? You don't know where he's gone, or how far-"

Rogue cut her off. "Ah'm sure, 'Ro. An' actually, Ah've got an idea of where he might've gone."

With that, she turned and strode out of the room, passing Jamie on his way in, who was introducing Rahne to the phenomena known as country music.

_Whoa-hoa, how fast can I go?_

_I've gotta catch that little red rodeo_

_She drove off with my heart _

_I've gotta let her know_

_Need the girl in that little red rodeo_

_Texas plates, candy-apple-red rodeo!_

Jamie switched off his portable radio as everyone stared at him and Rahne. "What?"

Kurt shook his head. "Strange. Zat vas oddly fitting."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The Prologue is complete! What do you guys think?**

**Additional, Non-Spoiler Disclaimer: I do not own the song "Little Red Rodeo."**

**This is gonna be a long one guys. Probably my longest yet. I hope you're all up for it.**

_**Hmph. Indy hopes dat **_**you're **_**up fo' it, chere.**_

**What's that supposed to mean?**

_**All Indy means is that ya koinda 'ave a habit of startin' fics an' then slowin' down on 'em so much that the story koinda falls apart.**_

***pouts* You two have no faith in me.**

_**Wey-al…**_

_**We'll 'elp ya, sheila, don' worry.**_

**Thanks ever so. Where have you two been?**

'_**Round…**_

_**Somewhere…**_

**Ri-ight…**

**Next chapter: What do you do when your boyfriend goes AWOL? Grill his best friend of course. Use torture sparingly.**


	2. Chapter 1: The Destination

**Disclaimer: Stan, honey. Why on earth would I be trying to hide things from you? What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine. That's why you're giving me the rights to X-Men: Evolution, remember?**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Midnight Aurora, 'cause she's awesome, and I love her, and also, I am borrowing her style of chapter titles, and trusting that she won't mind. **

* * *

><p>Chapter 1: The Destination<p>

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

Rogue wasn't stupid. She was in love, but she wasn't stupid. (The paradox that statement implies is one that should be left to higher minds.) She knew that Remy wouldn't leave without _someone _knowing where he went. He did that once. A week and a half later, the X-Men _finally _found him in South America and managed to free him from the mutant-proof, top-secret, highly-secure mutant research facility he'd gotten himself locked up in. Nowadays, Remy told people where he went.

Or, more specifically, one person.

You don't grow up the daughter of a terrorist-albeit a naïve daughter-without learning some things. Rogue had always assumed that the methods taught to her by Mystique for making a man scream for mercy were in case some dope tried to mug her in the back alleyways of Caldecott, Mississippi. It was only later that she realized her mama's torturous techniques were actually that: torture. When this insight pervaded her conscious, she had recoiled in horror at her mother, and what her mother had done.

However, despite deep misgivings, Rogue had accepted the possibility that she might need to dreg up some of her mother's methods of persuasion in dealing with Remy's contact.

St. John Allerdyce was more commonly known to the X-Men as "Pyro." He was Magneto's charity case, fresh from Australia, seventeen years old, with a warrant out for his arrest Down Under. Three years later, he was living with the Brotherhood, setting everything within range on fire periodically, and annoying the ever-living daylights out of all of them. John was insane, pyromania being the main issue. The ADD, ADHD, and mad laughing fits were circumstantial. Remy had gotten on famously with him during their Acolyte days, and after returning to Bayville, it was just like old times.

Rogue didn't want to hurt Johnny. He was sweet, if a little hyper and completely beyond her sometimes. Besides, Wanda liked him well-enough (once she got past the "Oh, yeah, your dad paid me ta lure ya back to his lair so he could steal your memories," bit he'd opened with), and Rogue really didn't want to mess with her friend's… whatever he was.

Still, it was Remy. And she really, really wanted him. And friend or no friend, St. John was _not _going to keep her from him.

With this in mind, Rogue came to a halt in the front drive of the Brotherhood's house, slinging gravel. She swung one leather-clad leg over the bike seat and straightened up carefully, eying the house like it was a poisonous snake waiting to strike. In a way, it was, although the results were usually less than deadly, and more accurately categorized as "irritating." The Brotherhood boys were hardly lethal.

Wanda, on the other hand, was pretty dang scary, and John could turn off the charm and turn on the fire with one blue-eyed glare, so most people learned quickly that just because the Brotherhood lived in a run-down manor home, didn't mean they were easy pickings. The X-Men maintained a truce with them for Wanda's sake, and because they had stopped trying to terrorize the city. Mostly.

Rogue stalked up the stairs and onto the porch. She tried the doorknob, and when it twisted, she opened it without knocking and went inside.

Toad and Lance glanced up from the TV and nodded to her, not at all surprised to see her in their living room without invitation or warning. She glanced around for Freddy, though her guess was that he was in the kitchen. Pietro was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Wanda?"

Lance looked at her. "I think she's monitoring Pietro and the fire-freak. They've been trying to kill each other all morning. They're in the backyard I think."

She grinned. "Thanks, Lance." Slipping past him, she made her way through the kitchen, nodding to Freddy, and to the back door.

Rogue stepped outside and surveyed the scene. Pietro was currently struggling in the grasp of the much stronger St. John Allerdyce, who for all of his slim, boyish good looks could pack a pretty mean punch. Wanda stood to one side, looking amused. She looked over a Rogue and smirked. "Love those boots, girl."

Rogue sauntered over, waving to Wanda and jerking her thumb over her shoulder as she passed the two wrestlers. " Hi, Wands. What's with them? Did Johnny burn Pietro's hair product again?"

Wanda grinned. "Nah, Pie's just mad 'cause John called him a drongo. I'm not entirely sure, but I think that's an insult in Aussie-talk."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "It is. Why aren't they using their powers?"

Her dark-haired friend smirked and held up a blue-sparking hand, wiggling the glowing fingers. "I don't fancy any trips to a hospital today."

The southerner laughed. "You could send them over to Hank. They'd get patched up, and a lecture on how Shakespeare is great for anger management."

Wanda laughed out loud. "I think the Firebug would probably enjoy that. Did you know he writes?"

Startled, Rogue said, "Really? You mean he writes books?"

"Books, poetry, short stories. He let me read a couple of them. They're pretty good."

Rogue glanced at her friend, who was watching the orange-haired Aussie with a strange smile on her face. She started to say something, but was cut off by the aforementioned Aussie's triumphant shout as Pietro finally tapped out.

"Ha!" he said, grinning ear to ear. "Oi win!"

"That's great, Firebug. Now why don't you get your knee off of my brother's sternum and come over here. Rogue wants to talk to you."

Surprised, Rogue shot her a look. "How did you-?"

Wanda waved her hand, the sparks disappearing and Pietro doing the same as his powers kicked back in. "Please. I know you love me, but if you'd really wanted to see me, you would've convinced me that girl-time is more important than making sure these two don't murder each other as soon as you got here."

Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Okayyyy… Ah guess so."

Pyro came strolling up, hair ruffled and orange t-shirt askew, and said, "Hiya, Roguey."

She smiled at him. "Hi, John. Ah need to ask ya somethin'."

He shrugged. "'Kay. What?"

"Where did Remy go?"

His blue eyes grew humongous. "Remy's gone?"

Rogue's previously friendly emeralds sparked dangerously and narrowed. "John, you're a terrible liar."

He sighed. "Dang. Losing my touch, used to be I could get Magsy ta believe it was Sabertooth that wrecked his dome even when he caught me in tha act."

"Pyro. Ah know you know where he is, so tell me. Now."

He shook his head. "No can do, sheila. He made me promise not ta tell anybody."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, an' that's always stopped ya before."

"He made me swear on my favorite lighter!"

"An' Ah'll make ya swear on your own liver if ya don' answer mah question," she informed him sweetly. John blanched. Glancing at Wanda, he muttered, "Luv, your mate is scary."

The Scarlet Witch examined her scarlet painted fingernails. "Just tell her what she wants to know, Firebug. We all know he told you, we all know he made you promise not to tell, and _I _know, that when you make promises of that sort, you almost always cross your fingers behind your back."

Rogue shot him a glare. He muttered a "Thanks for that, luv," in Wanda's direction before Rogue gripped the front of his shirt and yanked him close.

"Ah'm only gonna ask one more time, Johnny. Where. Is. He?"

The Aussie glanced towards Wanda, who crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a Look. Seeing that no help would be forthcoming from that corner, he turned back to the seething southerner and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Leggo of me shirt, sheila, an' I'll tell ya what ya want ta know."

* * *

><p>"New Orleans. Ah shoulda known," Rogue sighed as she accepted the glass of iced tea from Wanda. She sipped at it gingerly, knowing that Wanda had probably forgotten how much sugar was too much again, then set it down with a grimace when she found out that the opposite was true.<p>

John tipped back in his chair and rolled his neck. "Yeah, he said he figured family was the only place for him now, in spite of how much he doesn't like them sometimes."

Wanda calmly flicked a spark at him and ignored his yelp when his chair tipped completely over on its own. "Rogue, what are you going to do?"

She looked up. "Do? Ah'm goin' after him, of course. That's been the plan all along."

Wanda looked skeptical. "New Orleans, Rogue? That's a long way all by yourself."

Rogue stood up. "Ah know, Wands. But seriously, it's me we're talkin' about here. Ah can handle anyone an' anything on the way, and heaven help anybody tryin' ta stop me." She ruffled John's hair. "Thanks for the info, Pyro. Glad Ah didn' have ta hurt you."

He laughed nervously. "Me too, sheila."

Wanda sighed. "You've got a full tank?"

She nodded. "Ah'm good, hon. But Ah've gotta go now. If Ah can, Ah'll try to catch him before he makes it to the Dixon line."

John chuckled. "Good luck with that. He left hours ago, you know."

Rogue hastily gave them both a hug and then slipped out the door, calling a farewell over her shoulder to the other boys as she passed them-still watching TV in the living room-and Pietro as he came out of the bathroom nursing a black eye.

* * *

><p>Lance and Toad watched Wanda and the pyromaniac warily as they paced back and forth across the living room. Neither was entirely sure what the two were trying to accomplish, but the reasoning and logic process they were using was flying completely over the boys' heads.<p>

"If we do go, there's gonna be a problem at some point."

"Well, yeah, I can't take you boys anywhere without some sort of problem."

"But, on the other hand, Rogue said the professor would be tracking her on that computer-whatsit he's got."

"And we _are _out of edible food, and I doubt they'd refuse to let us stay for lunch…"

Lance and Toad looked on bewilderedly as Pyro and Wanda turned to each other and said at the same time, "What have we got to lose?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Wanda and John together are a force to be reckoned with. Let the whole world acknowledge this. Or at least this fandom. **

_**Y', chere, have problems.**_

_**Oh, an' you don't, luv? **_

_**Indy only has de problems Zany projec's on her.**_

_**Sure, luv. Sure.**_

_**D' y' want t' be hit by a chair?**_

_***grumbles* No…**_

**You two need counseling. Seriously.**

**Thanks to all my-**_**"Ahem!"**_**- ****our reviewiers:**

**00-The-Melodious-Nocturne-00, tradingtruthsforlies, gambitfan85, catycat010, The BlueFoxtrot A Samba, Ilovebookshowboutyou, Chellerbelle, Rogueslove22, Ace-of-Cyberspace13, blackberrhuntress, aecul, and EvrAnge.**

**Next Chapter: Cops don't care if your boyfriend left you, and mutual friendship is enough to call a truce. Also, if you keep talking to yourself in public, people will start thinking that you're crazy.**


	3. Chapter 2: The Truce

**Disclaimer: I would never cheat on you, Stan! Especially not with DC Comics! Where's the trust, babe? I watched **_**one**_** movie! X-Men: Evolution is my one true love! Er, except for you of course. ^_^**

**A/N: To 00-The-Melodious-Nocturne-00, because she drew some awesome fanart for Social Status, and she so deserves a chapter dedicated just for her!**

**Speaking of which, said fanart can be found here: http:/ 0melodious- nocturne0. deviantart. com/**

**Ya'll know to take out the spaces. Good on you, Nocturne!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 2: The Truce<p>

* * *

><p>Somewhere, New York<p>

Logan's motorcycle handled like a dream. When she got Remy back, she was gonna have to get her one of these.

Rogue skillfully pulled into traffic, dodging overzealous, cranky drivers who obviously needed to set their alarm clocks for an earlier time if they were _this _late to work. She ignored the honking and settled more comfortably on the leather seat of the bike.

_Dang thing is gonna give me leg-cramps._

_It's like, totally your own fault, Rogue,_ Kitty's psyche told her. _If you hadn't been in such a glory-hacked rush to get on the move, you could've asked to borrow a car._

Rogue grimaced. _Shut up, Kit. Ah like the motorcycle. It's got better maneuverability._

_Why would you need maneuverability? _Kitty scoffed.

_For this._ Suddenly, Rogue let loose the throttle and felt the bike jump forward. She twisted the handlebars hard and grinned to herself as Kitty's psyche let out a squeal and the motorcycle wove in between three cars before settling back into the regular traffic flow.

_That was not cool, Rogue,_ Scott's psyche scolded. _You could've been hurt._

She rolled her eyes.

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

Wanda glanced over her shoulder and winced. Toad and Freddy were arguing about what type of sandwich tasted best on wheat bread, and Lance and Pietro were both wearing the sulkiest looks they could pull off. She looked to her right, where St. John stood, one eyebrow raised above one bright blue eye.

"Well, luv? Ya gonna knock?"

"This is a bad idea," she said. He shrugged.

"Yeah, but we're already here, an' I'm hungry." Reaching past her, he knocked on the door of the mansion.

"Don't they already know we're here?" demanded Toad. "I mean, they opened the gates, yo!"

Wanda shot him a glare. "It's _polite_." Grumbling, he quieted, and resettled on Fred's shoulder.

Scott opened the door. "Wanda. Pyro." He peered past them. "Boys. Please come in."

They entered in single file, quiet for once. Scott forced a smile and said, "Everyone's in the living room. Come on in."

"Well, Miss Maximoff," Xavier smiled, folding his hands under his chin. "What can I do for you?"

Wanda eyed Scott and Jean where they hovered at the barest edge of her periphery vision. "Professor, Rogue came to see Johnny today-"

"Who?" Scott interrupted. Wanda sent a death-glare, perfected by Rogue and borrowed on occasion by her volatile friend, his way. She hated being interrupted. He quailed a little.

"John," she said again. "She came to see Johnny and he told us Remy was on his way to New Orleans. Now I know our teams have their differences, but Rogue is my friend-"

"And Remy's my best mate," Pyro piped up.

"-And we would really appreciate it if you'd let us hang out here and keep in the loop," Wanda finished. She didn't seem to notice the Aussie's interruption.

Professor X nodded slowly. "I see…" He seemed to deliberate.

Jean and Scott looked pained. Most of the X-kids looked mildly interested at the event of having the Brotherhood in their living room, but otherwise didn't appear to have an opinion on the matter. The Brotherhood tried to look tough. John and Wanda looked determined.

Xavier smiled. "Of course you may "hang out" as you put it. For as long as you like."

Wanda smiled back. "Thank you, Professor."

Toad piped up then. "So we can stay, yo?"

Xavier beamed at them. "Yes, please, make yourselves at home."

He'd barely finished the sentence before Freddy was lumbering towards the kitchen with Toad still on his shoulder. Lance and Pietro glanced at each other and shrugged before heading in the direction of the rec room, which Lance remembered from his brief escapade as an X-Man.

John snuck a look at Wanda, a sly smile playing on his lips. She caught his eye and rolled hers. His grin grew wider. She threw up her hands in frustration.

Xavier looked in the direction of the kitchen, a worried expression on his face. "Excuse me," he said, wheeling his chair down the hall, leaving Jean and Scott with Wanda and John, the younger X-Men having dispersed already.

The two X-Men stared at the Witch and the pyro. They stared back.

St. John quickly grew bored with the staring match and fished in his pocket for his lighter. Digging it out with a fond smile, he began flicking it open and shut.

Scott started. "Hey, don't do that."

Pyro kept flicking. "Don't do what, mate?"

Scott gritted his teeth. "I'm not your mate. And I meant, don't play with fire. It's not safe."

The lighter clicked shut. Both Wanda and St. John turned to stare at him incredulously. He flushed.

Click. Click.

Giving up for the time being, Scott stomped away, followed by Jean, skittering after him like a nervous bunny. "Fine! But if the house burns down, I'll know who did it!"

"Well, duh," John retorted once he was out of earshot. "Who else would it be?"

Wanda rolled her eyes and bit back a giggle.

* * *

><p>Somewhere, New York<p>

Rogue huffed in frustration when the red and blue lights flashed in the tiny rearview mirror on the motorcycle.

"Ah _so _do not need this right now." She pulled over and waited, impatiently tapping her gloved fingers on the handlebars. Scowling, she looked down and noticed a scuff on her black leather boots. She huffed again.

A young, uniformed police officer strolled up. "License and registration, ma'am."

_Ma'am? Do Ah _look _old enough to be called "Ma'am?" _She handed him her license.

_He's just being polite, Rogue. Sheesh._

"Shut up, Kitty," she said aloud. The cop looked up, startled. "Ma'am?"

Rogue gritted her teeth. "Never mind, Officer." He gave her a look, but went back to… whatever it was he was doing with her driver's license. He finished whatever it was and handed the card back to her.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid I have to inform you that you were speeding just now."

She stared at him. _Remy's half-way to the Dixon line, and this guy is upset that I was a few notches over the speed limit?_

_Rogue, cops don't care that your boyfriend left you. The law is the law, _Jean's voice was irritatingly calm in her head.

_Ah don' care, _she said back. _An' he ain't mah boyfriend. Yet._

_Ri-ight. _

_Kitty, Ah don' seem to remember invitin' you into this li'l pow-wow._

_Touch-y! Someone's grumpy._

_Ah'm sittin' on the side of the road, waitin' for this guy to jus' give me the ticket already, while Remy's getting' farther an' farther away. _And _Ah'm doin' it while talkin' to you two in mah _head._ Ah am_ not _in a good mood, Kit._

_I can see that._

"Agh!"

The cop stopped in the middle of what he was saying to her and gave her a stern look. "Now, little lady, see here. You were speeding, nearly fifteen over the limit, and it's only a ticket. No need for temper tantrums."

She stared at him, seething. _Little lady? Ah go from "Ma'am" to "Little lady" in the space of one lecture? What the heck?_

_You were speeding, Rogue, _Scott said.

_Shut up._

The psyches fell silent, although Rogue vaguely heard Kitty whisper to Jean that "like, Rogue's boots are totally smokin'."

Forcing a smile, and laying the accent on really thick, she looked up at the officer through her lashes. "Oh Officer…" she glanced at his nametag, "Powell, Ah am _so _sorry 'bout that. Ah ain't from 'round here, ya see, an' Ah must've missed the sign."

He frowned a little, but softened when he saw her lips begin to quiver. "Well, missy, since I haven't found any priors, I guess I could let you off with a warning this _one _time…"

"Oh, thank you, Officer!"

"But if I catch you again, you _will _get a ticket, you hear?"

"Oh, yes, sir, loud an' clear!"

He smiled at her kindly. "Alright then, you go on now. Drive safe!"

She waved at him as he drove by her in his car, and then pulled back out onto the road, scowling.

_Missy? Can't the guy jus' pick a form of address, for goodness sake?_

_Rogue, you really need to let that go._

_Ah'll let it go when I dang well please, _she snapped at Kitty. The psyche just rolled her eyes and glanced down at her nails, done just like the real Kitty's had been last time Rogue had absorbed her. Jean, Scott, and Logan were silent, along with a couple of random anti-mutant terrorists who thought it'd be a good idea to jump her one day while she was out by herself.

Remy was up there too, but he hadn't said anything in days, which was actually highly unusual for him. The psyche was after all, a replica of the real thing, and Lord knew Remy never went more than a day and a half at most without saying something to her. It was oddly upsetting that he wouldn't even talk to her in her head.

_Rogue, you seriously need to chill, _Kitty told her. _Let the peace of the universe flow through you…_

She was quiet for a couple seconds, scrunching her face up in confusion. _Ah don' know what that means. _She glanced at the other psyches, standing on the side of her mental highway with her. Logan grunted.

_Don' look at me._

_Wasn't plannin' to._ Sighing, she forced herself to focus on the road.

_I'm just saying, Rogue…_

"This conversation is over," she firmly said aloud. The psyches were silent as they climbed into their respective mental incarnations of transportation Rogue had imagined for them (bikes for Logan and Remy, Scott's car for Jean, Kitty, and himself) and drove off along the lonely highway of her mind.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I really hope my teacher never reads this, because I used his name for the cop. :) **

**I enjoy making Rogue seem crazy to everyone around her. You'd think the telepaths would have more grief from the voices in their heads, but no, Rogue is definitely the cake-taker on that one.**

_**Indy don' t'ink dat be a real phrase, fille.**_

_**Indy really should learn ta jus' chill.**_

**And WHERE have you two been? Again?**

_**Nowhere…**_

_**Indy was… busy.**_

**I'm sure.**

**Next Chapter: Men. Can't live with 'em, can get along without 'em just fine, but where's the fun in that?**


	4. Chapter 3: The Sleepover

**Disclaimer: *sigh* Stan, this is ridiculous. We've been having this argument for three chapters already! Why can't you just admit that you and I have something great, and it'd be even better if you gave me the rights to X-Men: Evolution? **

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Danni Diamond, and to Roxie. You're both encouraging and wonderful. (Well, sometimes Roxie's encouraging.)**

* * *

><p>Chapter 3: The Sleepover<p>

* * *

><p>Somewhere, New York<p>

Watching the street lights wink on, one by one, Rogue sighed and gave up her vague hope of catching Remy before he made it out of state. She despondently stated searching for a diner to have a late supper at, and when she found one, decided that it was just as good as any other and turned her bike into the parking lot.

Swinging off, she gave the small group of guys hanging out by the entrance a look that clearly promised pain if they so much as looked like they were planning to act on the bike-lust written all over their faces and went inside, ignoring them as they switched the admiring gazes from the bike to her person. She sauntered over to an empty booth and sat down with a sigh.

A waitress came strolling over, black apron wrapped around her waist and her hair up in a bandana, twirling a pen in her right hand. "What can I get for you?" she asked in a faint British accent.

Rogue hunched her shoulders and sighed again. "Just iced tea for now."

The waitress smiled sympathetically. "Rough day?"

Rogue gave her a tired smile. "You could say that."

The waitress hesitated for a minute, studying her. "Hey… you wanna talk about it?"

Rogue's face closed off abruptly. "That's okay. Ah really-"

"Oh!" The girl smiled a little. "It's alright, I understand. I didn't mean to impose or anything. And I really don't blame you for being leery of mutants. Some of us are a little overbearing." She turned to walk away.

"WHAT?" Rogue reached out and caught her arm in a gloved hand. "What did you say?"

The girl grinned at her. "Hello, Rogue."

"How do you-"

"Hang on a second? I'll get off and then I'll explain, alright?"

Speechless, Rogue stared at the waitress as she untied her apron and tossed it in the direction of a passing busboy. "Mack, I'm off. Hang this up for me?" He waved in acknowledgement and the girl grinned and turned back to Rogue. Taking her arm, she lifted the Southerner from her seat and said, "C'mon, girl, let's get you someplace friendly."

Suddenly too tired, and way too confused to argue, Rogue allowed herself to be led away.

* * *

><p>Betsy Braddock unlocked her apartment door and looked over her shoulder at the stripe-haired Southern belle who was standing dazedly behind her. Jiggling her tricky door handle, she finally opened the door and waved Rogue inside.<p>

"Come in," she said, flourishing her arm. "Make yourself at home. There's pizza in the fridge. I'm just gonna go get out of uniform." She started down the hall, leaving the other girl standing in the living room.

Shrugging, Rogue headed for the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Hey, she was hungry, and the perky-enough-to-give-Kitty-a-run-for-her-money girl was offering, so why not? She grabbed the pizza box and a soda, and went back into the living room, swinging her leather boots up onto the coffee table.

The weird girl from the diner came back out of her room, shaking out her hair and smiling. "Wow, am I glad to get out of that skirt. I just _know _it was a guy who designed those uniforms." She gave Rogue an approving look and put her own feet up on the couch.

Rogue stared at her.

"Your hair is purple."

She quirked an eyebrow. "And yours has white stripes."

Rogue raised her soda. "Touche."

The girl stuck out her hand. "I'm Betsy Braddock."

Rogue shook it. "Ah'm Rogue. But Ah guess you knew that…?"

Betsy reached for a slice of pizza. "Yeah, sorry about that. You were kinda open, and I just accidentally overheard something… well, something a little strange actually."

Rogue studied her. "You're a telepath."

Betsy nodded. "Got it in one. I also do a mean ninja impersonation, much to my boyfriend's distress."

Rogue shook her head. "Man… it's good to meet you, but who'd a thought Ah'd end the day like this?"

_I didn't._

They both blinked. Betsy gave a sheepish little grin. "Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear… that's what I meant by 'something strange.' Like a conversation in your head."

Rogue snorted. "Ah ain't crazy if that's what you're askin'. It's part of mah mutation. Ah absorb people's thoughts, memories, and abilities through skin contact. The current thoughts and abilities fade after a little while, but the memories and a little piece of their mind stays in mine-Ah call it a psyche. It kinda sucks, 'cause Ah can't control it. You probably overheard Kitty just now. She's a friend of mine."

Betsy was staring at her. "Gosh, you mean you can't touch anybody? That's awful!"

Rogue nodded. "Yeah. It really does. It's actually part of the reason Ah'm out here, instead of back in Bayville with mah family."

Betsy's eyes widened. "Bayville? You're an X-Man?"

Rogue looked at her, surprised. "Yeah, you know about us?"

"Who doesn't? Xavier actually contacted me awhile back, to see if I wanted to join. I said no, because I didn't want to affiliate myself, but he seemed really nice. Why on earth are you away from the Institute?"

And so Rogue found herself telling this complete stranger-only not so much-about Remy, and her mutation, and Remy, and Apocalypse, and Remy, and some place called the Blood Moon Bayou that she spoke of with real affection, and Remy, and an encounter with a cop named Powell, and Remy.

* * *

><p>Betsy listened to all of it patiently, not saying a single word the entire narrative, and letting her expression do the talking for her.<p>

"Wow," she said when Rogue was finally finished. "You really have had a rough day."

Rogue groaned a laugh and flopped back on the couch. "Yeah. Really."

Betsy smiled. "Remy sounds sweet."

Rogue's head popped back up. "Oh, no not at all."

Betsy gave her a look, and she gave a little. "Okay, so he's a _little _sweet. Sometimes. Occasionally. Usually, he's a pain in the neck, an' aggravates the heck out of me. He's always makin' innuendos, an' teasin' me, an' drivin' me up the wall! Sometimes, all Ah wanna do is give him the kiss he keeps beggin' for, jus' so that he'll be unconscious for a few hours an' Ah'll get some peace. But then Ah'd have his dirty thoughts in mah head. An' his psyche would be even stronger. An' lemme tell ya, it's pretty dang strong already, seein' as how he's always _touchin' _me. It's like he don' even care that Ah could kill him with a kiss, all he wants to do is touch me, tease me, stare at me. Gawsh, it's annoyin'."

Betsy smirked. "Sounds like he loves you a lot."

Rogue smiled wistfully at her soda can. "Yeah…"

* * *

><p>"So, enough about me," Rogue said an hour later, after the two girls had downed an entire tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream. "You mentioned a boyfriend?" She'd kicked her boots off about twenty minutes ago, and now relished wiggling her toes.<p>

"Oh! Yeah," Betsy perked up. "He's not here right now."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Ah guessed that by the fact that he's… not here."

Betsy waved a hand at her impatiently. "No, I mean he's not in the state."

Rogue sat back. "Oh. Why not?"

Betsy sighed. "You know? I really have no clue. He's weird like that, just takes off randomly and stays gone for unspecified amounts of time. Days, or weeks, or sometimes even months. I'll tell ya, Rogue. If I didn't love him so much, I _so_ wouldn't put up with it."

Rogue sighed sympathetically. "Ah know right?"

Betsy moodily stared at her soda. "Men."

"Amen, sister."

"He's a little crazy sometimes, but you know, aren't we all?"

"Ah guess so."

"And his obsession with Mexican foods is a little worrying at times but… it's just quirky."

"Remy likes cards."

"Huh?"

"Cards. Remy's obsession is playing cards."

"You mean besides his obsession with you?"

"Ah think he's combined the two. He gave me this card once…"

"They're such idiots sometimes."

"It's a good thing they've got us."

"Oh, yeah."

* * *

><p>"…I like your boots."<p>

"…Thanks."

* * *

><p>Betsy yawned. "I'm soooo tired."<p>

Rogue nodded her drowsy agreement. Betsy yawned and stood up suddenly. "You want the bed?"

The Southerner stared up at her. "Am Ah stayin' the night?"

The purple haired telepath frowned sleepily. "Well, duh. I'm not sending you back out tonight to scrounge for a room somewhere when I've got a perfectly good couch for one of us to sleep on right here."

Rogue smiled up at her with genuine gratitude and warmth shining in her glazed eyes. "Thanks, Betsy. For everythin'."

Betsy yawned again. "Don't mention it. Bed?"

Rogue stood up and yawned too. "Yeah." She followed Betsy down the hall.

* * *

><p>"Again, Bets, thanks so much."<p>

"My pleasure, Rogue. It was great to meet you. Hope you catch your Cajun soon."

"Me too."

They didn't hug, or shake hands, but they exchanged a look only two women who spent a good deal of the night before commiserating on the idiocy of men together could truly understand. It was its own form of sisterhood, and all the farewell either needed.

Rogue kicked Logan's motorcycle into roaring life and waved to Betsy as she rode away.

Betsy glanced at the barely-over-the-horizon sunrise, yawned, and turned around and went back to bed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I do enjoy Betsy. If you did too, no worries, she'll be back.**

**Indy... Ash?**

***sigh* And they're gone again. I swear, they live in _my _head, and I have no idea where they are. **

**In other notes, my Microsoft Word is being a git, so my writing has stalled. Luckily, I have most of the chapters written already for this fic, so I can still update until I get it fixed. It's actually physically painful for me to not have my Word though. :( Pray for me. **

**Next Chapter: Familiarity breeds discontent, and some things will never change.**


	5. Chapter 4: The Arrangement

**Disclaimer: Stan, I'm **_**so **_**glad we made up. I do hate to quarrel with you. And really, I want you to consider those X-Men: Evolution rights. Having to keep track of all that paperwork must be exhausting. I'd like to make things a little easier on you. What do you say?**

**A/N: To devbneo, because I'm flattered that you stalk me.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 4: The Arrangement<p>

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in Bayville, New York<p>

Charles Xavier smiled beatifically to himself as he wheeled out of the kitchen and towards his private study. He'd been pleasantly surprised to enter the room and find Freddy and Toad quietly cooking eggs on the stove, as opposed to the mess and chaos he'd been expecting. To his utter shock, Toad had informed him that, "Blob here takes food very seriously. I know our place don't look it from the outside yo, but lately, our kitchen is _spotless_."

All Charles could do was nod as the large young man picked up his frying pan, slid the eggs onto a plate, and handed it to his frog-like friend before continuing on to the next batch.

* * *

><p>Blue eyes met gold and both glared.<p>

"I bet I can beat you to the kitchen."

"You're on!"

BAMF!

WHOOSH!

Scott shook his head as Pietro shot by him and glanced around for Jean. He hadn't seen her since that crazy ex-Acolyte had attempted to burn the mansion down. He wandered in the direction of the kitchen and poked his head in. Toad was sitting at the table, Kurt was smugly hanging from the chandelier by his tail, and Quicksilver was loudly demanding a rematch.

"Hey, uh, Toad-I mean Todd, have you seen Jean?"

A blonde head came out of the refrigerator. "Jean?"

Scott gave the Blob a glowy-eyed look. "Yes. Jean. _My girlfriend_."

Toad shrugged. "Nope, haven't seen her, man."

"-The rec room: GO!"

BAMF!

WHOOSH!

Scott sighed. "Okay then… thanks."

"Hey…"

He stopped and turned back to the Blob. "Yes?"

The boy twisted his hands together. "You want some bacon? I was just about to fry some."

Scott tried not to grimace at the thought of eating bacon cooked by this guy and then actually considered it for a second. Jean wasn't around, and he didn't have anything better to do… and he did like bacon…

"Sure," Scott heard himself saying. "I'll have some."

* * *

><p>Kitty sneaked a peek to her left, where Lance sat on the couch beside her, jaw stiff. His eyes darted in her direction and she snapped hers forward.<p>

"So…"

"So…"

The awkward silence resumed.

The smell of sulfur filled the room, accompanied by Kurt, and spread throughout the area by the wind caused by Pietro speeding in a split second after the blue mutant arrived.

"Rematch!" Pietro called, not even pausing for breath. "Pool this time: GO!"

WHOOSH!

BAMF!

Kitty and Lance glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"Pietro's gonna win you know."

Kitty shot her ex-boyfriend a look. "Oh, he so will not! Kurt is like, _way _ahead of him. He doesn't even have to run."

Lance shrugged. "Pie's really fast."

Kitty turned to face him. "Well, Kurt's faster!"

Lance turned to face her. "Well, I don't care!"

"Jerk!"

"Brat!"

* * *

><p>"So, Blob-"<p>

"Fred."

Scott nodded. "Right, Fred. Um… how've you been?"

Freddy shrugged. "Just fine. You?"

Scott shrugged back. "Can't complain."

They sat in silence broken only by chewing and Toad's snores from his place across Fred's shoulders.

Scott pointed with his bacon strip. "Isn't that uncomfortable?"

Fred thought about it. "A little, but hey, where else is he gonna sleep?"

Scott scrunched up his forehead. "Uh, on a bed?"

The other boy looked surprised. "Huh. I'd never thought about that!"

* * *

><p>The Professor rolled into Cerebro's chamber and put on the headset. "Well, Rogue, time to see what you're up to…"<p>

BAMF!

"Achduleiber! Zis is not ze pool!" BAMF!

Blissfully unaware of the minor interruption, Xavier continued his preparations to use Cerebro.

* * *

><p>"You're a snotty, stuck up little X-geek, and I can't believe I ever went out with you!"<p>

"And you're a meanie, dumb-haired hood and _I _can't believe I ever went out with _you_!"

"Aw, shut up, Pryde."

"You shut up, Alvers!"

* * *

><p>"The library: GO!"<p>

BAMF!

WHOOSH!

* * *

><p>"Ahhh, Rogue. There you are…" Professor Xavier smiled. Then he frowned. Rogue had been using her mutation…<p>

* * *

><p>"Dude, your girlfriend is hot."<p>

Scott gave Toad a look that implied he wished him on an ice peak in Siberia. "Thank you."

Fred gave him an apologetic glance. "Sorry about him."

Scott shot him an incredulous look. "Sorry? Aren't _you _the one who kidnapped her once?"

Fred had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "Yes. But… I was dumber then."

Scott had the grace not to snort.

"Attention, children, I have an update on our Rogue. If you would all care to meet me in the living room?"

* * *

><p>Charles beamed at the array of faces before him, expressions ranging from excited, to mildly interested, to deathly bored. These last two consisted of most of the Brotherhood and the younger X-students, who either weren't aware of the situation in its entirety, or didn't care that much.<p>

"Thank you for paying attention. I have a reading on Rogue's location. She's in Pennsylvania."

Murmurs broke out across the room. Kitty, still balefully glaring at Lance, asked, "Is she okay?"

Xavier folded his hands beneath his chin. "She… appears to be alright. She _was _using her mutation though, so she may have run into trouble."

Scott scowled. Jean gasped. "I knew we shouldn't have let her go!"

Everyone started talking again. Kurt and Pietro weren't paying attention at all, Kitty and Lance got into another argument over what kind of trouble Rogue was in, the kids and the two Brotherhood boys just looked around and started talking to the person next to them. Jean and Scott began petitioning the Professor to let them take a group to go after Rogue. Logan and Storm just glanced at each other.

Xavier's face was growing worried when a sharp Aussie yell cut through the din.

"Oi! Shut up, ya mangy swarm of ding-bats!"

Almost instantly, the noise died down, shock taking the edge off. Everyone turned to look at St. John, standing next to Wanda Maximoff and both looking very displeased.

"Not anotha word now, or so help me, I'll turn tha lot of ya inta breakfast toast." He turned to the black-haired girl beside him. "Your floor, luv."

She raised an eyebrow at his flourish, but stepped forward. "Rogue's a big girl. And she wouldn't want us butting in on her little adventure. Unless she lets us know otherwise, why don't we just let her do her thing, and we'll stay right here and do ours?"

Xavier gave a sigh of relief. "Wanda, I think that's an excellent idea."

Toad, apparently deciding that he didn't appreciate John's 'luv' comment, piped up. "Of course it is, yo! It's my Smoochie Poo's idea!"

John snickered. Wanda glared at him. The X-Men stood awkwardly in the face of this unwarranted declaration of affection. Lance and Kitty glanced at each other and started arguing again.

Charles turned to Logan and Ororo and rubbed his forehead. "I need a drink."

"Right there with ya, Chuck," Logan growled.

* * *

><p>Lancaster, Pennsylvania<p>

Rogue gritted her teeth as she tried for the hundredth time not to run over a buggy. Driving a motorcycle through Amish Country was _not _conducive to good temper. Or sanity for that matter. She'd just managed to get out of that conversation with the tomato farmer, who had the nerve to question the quality of the leather her boots were made of. She'd just asked for directions for goodness' sake!

Rolling her eyes, she swerved again.

_Ah have already used my powers more than once in this state alone. If Ah end up in crash, the professor is gonna be down here before I can get out of the wreckage! Well, not him himself, 'cause, he's sort of a homebody but- why the heck am Ah tellin' myself this? 'S not like Ah even meant to absorb that tomato farmer…_

She let out a yelp as a chicken flapped its way across the road in front of her.

"Ah hate this road."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: To my friends in Lancaster, you know I love you all. **

_**Do y' really t'ink dey be readin' dis, chere?**_

_**Indy's gotta a point, sheila. **_

_**Merci, Ashy.**_

_**Anytoime, luv.**_

**...Are you two actually getting along?**

_**... O' course not. *hexes Ash into a wall***_

_**Ow.**_

**Next Chapter: Thinking is dangerous when driving a Harle****y, and Daddy's advice is always gold. Or silver. Or, you know, mildly tarnished bronze.**


	6. Chapter 5: the Talk

**Disclaimer: **_**(aside) **_**Ahhh… so Stan and I have finally worked things out between us. Good thing too. I was beginning to believe I'd have to kill him and inherit the rights to X-Men: Evolution.**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Rogueslove22, for her wonderful praise and encouragement. **

* * *

><p>Chapter 5: The Talk<p>

* * *

><p>Clinton County, Ohio<p>

There really is no feeling quite like speeding down an open highway on a motorcycle, wind shoving at your body, and letting the purr of the machine flow through you entirely.

Rogue found it very soothing.

Although her helmet visor obscured most of the scenery from view, she couldn't help but think-rather uncharitably-that she probably wasn't missing much. As far as she could tell, all the Great State of Ohio had to offer landscape-wise was corn. And cows. And corn. Lots of corn. _Why is there so much corn? Don't these people know everything bad happens in a cornfield?_

She hunched her shoulders against the wind resistance and checked her gas gauge. She was doing just fine, so she didn't need to stop for gas. She wasn't cold-well, okay, she was a _little _cold-and she wasn't exceptionally tired. So why did she feel… off?

Rogue let her mind drift, a technique the Professor had taught her to settle her thoughts and focus on the problem. The answer came to her as she was contemplating the exact amount of corn growing in the humongous field she'd been driving by for what seemed like an hour. She hadn't heard Remy's psyche in days. It was disconcerting.

She began musing as to why it upset her so much-Lord knows she was always trying to get him to shut up-but figured that it didn't make any difference in the long run. If the psyche didn't want to talk, she couldn't make him talk. It was as simple as that.

Still… she couldn't help but wish he'd say something. Remy was _never_ quiet, and Rogue was seriously wondering if she had done something to offend him, though she wasn't sure she _could_ offend a psyche. She never thought she would be longing for Remy's voice, but here she was, doing just that.

"Oh mah gawsh," she said disgustedly. "Ah'm _pining_!"

Distractedly, she took the motorcycle around a curve. The only warning she had before she was upon the herd of cows crossing the road was a disturbed bellow and a human shout.

Slamming on the brakes isn't the best idea on a motorcycle in the best of circumstances, but when you have to do it within two seconds of _realizing_ that you have to do it, it's _really_ tricky.

_Ah never thought Ah'd be glad for those reflex drills in the Danger Room,_ Rogue groaned inwardly. She waved weakly at the cow-man, who was giving her a look that implied he questioned her sanity. _It's all that stupid Cajun's fault. He's distractin' me… an' he ain't even here!_

Mentally glaring at Remy's psyche (who was sleeping soundly in his little psyche bed she'd imagined for him, and was thus blissfully unaware of the scrutiny being paid to him) Rogue scowled as the last cow ambled across the pavement. _Dumb things have no idea the kind of hurry Ah am in. _She scuffed her black leather boot against the ground.

"Finally-" her phone rang.

Letting out a growl of frustration, she jerked her phone out and flicked it open. "What?" she snarled into the speaker.

"Good to hear your voice too, Stripes," Logan's dry response came back fuzzily.

"Logan!" She sat up straighter on the bike. "Hi! Sorry 'bout that, Ah'm just a little on edge."

He chuckled. "Lord knows I ain't judgin' ya, Stripes. I just wanted ta check in with ya."

"Oh," she glanced around. "Ah'm alright."

"Those boots holdin' up?"

She laughed. "Yeah. Thanks again for them. They're really comfortable."

"Good. How's my bike?"

"Hmm? Oh, fine, fine."

"You sure you're okay? You sound kinda… distracted."

"Ah…" Rogue hesitated. Burdening Logan with her Remy issues didn't usually get her anywhere. Whenever she'd complain about Remy to him before, he always told her that if she didn't want him to gut the Cajun, she'd have to deal with him herself. Still, he asked.

"Remy ain't talkin' to me," she confessed. He was quiet for a second. "Logan?"

"I'm here. Stripes, Remy's gone, remember?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ah know that, thanks very much. But Ah mean his psyche. He won't talk ta me at all, an' usually it's all Ah can do to get him ta shut up!"

He digested this slowly. "So… you're upset 'cause Gumbo won't talk to ya in yer head?"

"No… maybe… well, yes," she sighed. "It's just that… Ah miss him, Logan. Ah miss him, an' the only piece of him Ah have with me won't speak to me!"

She imagined him tipping his head back as he downed the last of his-contraband and carefully hidden from the Professor-beer and smiled a little. Her "father" was such a bad influence. He was lucky the younger kids hadn't taken up smoking cigars and drinking, considering how much they looked up to him. It was doubtful though, that any of them actually wanted to be just like him. Logan wasn't exactly everyone's idea of a role model.

He guffawed suddenly in her ear. "Tell you what, Stripes. You've got me up there too, doncha? In yer head, I mean. My psyche?"

Unsure of where exactly he was headed with this, she replied cautiously, "Ye-es…"

He chuckled again. "Well, then. You tell that Cajun that if he don' want the Wolverine comin' after him, he'd better start bein' his usual charmin' self with ya."

Slowly, Rogue felt a smile start to spread across her face. "Ya know, Logan? That's actually crazy enough to work! Provided his psyche is less of a smart-alec than the real Remy. He might decide to take his chances."

She heard the smirk in his voice as he said, "Bring it on."

Her mood considerably lighter than when she'd started the conversation, she said, "Ah'll keep that in mind. How's everything back home?"

If Logan noticed her not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he replied, "Well, not long after you left, the Brotherhood showed up, requesting permission to 'hang' at the Institute to keep tabs on you. Apparently the witch and the firebug are concerned for you an' the Cajun."

Rogue grinned. "Tell Wanda and John Ah said Hi, 'kay? Oh, an' Kitty too."

"Will do, Stripes. Chuck wants me to tell you he'll be checking in soon, so don't crash the motorcycle when you feel someone poking at your mind."

She laughed. "Gotcha." She looked up at the sky, noting the clouds. "Logan, Ah'm gonna go now, it looks like it might rain."

"Bye then, Rogue."

"Bye, Logan. Thanks for the advice. Love you!"

He was silent. Then, quietly, "Love you too, Stripes." He hung up, probably embarrassed to have revealed that little tidbit-which Rogue already knew anyway, but Logan liked to pretend was still a secret.

* * *

><p>Snapping her phone shut, Rogue prepared to take off again. Looking around, the corn seemed less malignant and more helpful for the benefit of society. She grinned. Huh. Logan made corn seem better. She'd have to remember to tell him that. He'd probably blow a gasket.<p>

With a new sense of purpose and direction, Rogue opened the throttle and released the clutch. The motorcycle shot forward sped down the road. She waved as she passed the cow-man, ignoring his scowl and raised fist. She was headed south, past Ohio, and down towards Louisiana, and her absconding Cajun Charming.

In the back of Rogue's consciousness, in the small circle of beds she'd fashioned for her psyches to sleep in when they were tired (Rogue was rather a small child at heart in many ways), Remy LeBeau stirred and opened one eye, taking a moment to admire Rogue in the distance, speeding on her mental highway in her knee-high leather boots before casting a wary red gaze towards the bed on his right, in which Logan slumbered away peacefully.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I live in Ohio. Rest assured, any corn jokes are known and appreciated. ;)**

_**True t'ough. Mos' anywhere y' look, dere be corn, corn, corn.**_

_**Oi loike corn.**_

_**O' course y' do. **_

_**Wot's that s'posed ta mean?**_

_**Y' a little messed up, Ashy. We all know dat.**_

_**Ya know, luv, that hurts, it really does.**_

_**Sure...**_

**Next Chapter: Love is crazy. That means it's right up his alley.**


	7. Chapter 6: The Restaurant

**Disclaimer: Stan, darling. Despite the fact of you being more than twice my age, and our relationship to date having been more than a little rocky, I think you and I get along splendidly for all our differences, and should seal our bond with a little gift. What do you say to the rights to X-Men: Evolution, and I'll bake you some brownies? **

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to The BlueFoxtrot A Samba. You'll know why as soon as you read it. It's finally here. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 6: The Restaurant<p>

* * *

><p>Paintsville, Kentucky<p>

"This town is…"

Rogue stared at the tight arrangement of shops strung along the street. "Tiny."

She stepped off of the motorcycle, smirking a little as dust settled on her boot-tops.

"Okay, so first order of business, find someplace to eat." She took off, striding down the sidewalk like she owned the town.

* * *

><p>"Chinese…burgers… ah! Mexican!"<p>

Stepping into the coolness of the restaurant, Rogue inhaled the scent of spicy burritos and salsa and smiled contentedly.

Marco… or Palo… or… somebody led her to a table near the back and she collapsed into the booth with a sigh of relief. Ordering an iced tea, she picked up the menu, determined to find something cheap and spicy.

Her occupation with the plastic covered cardstock was probably why she didn't see him coming until it was too late.

"Hiya!"

Her head shot up, and her mouth dropped open. Sitting across the table from her was a man, dressed in a red and black jumpsuit, face covered with a mask. Weapons were strapped across every available inch of his body.

"'Sup."

Rogue felt her eyes bug.

* * *

><p>"Wade Wilson, that's me. 'M from…" he paused, seemingly trying to recall his origin. "Canada! Yeah, I'm from Canada. Or at least, I was most recently. Which I can't remember."<p>

"Ah know someone from Canada," Rogue offered, strangely at ease with this eccentric stranger who had decided to seat himself at her table. He raised an eyebrow. "Really? What's he like?"

"Well…" Rogue considered what she should tell this Wade Wilson, who walked into Mexican restaurants armed to the teeth without anybody batting an eye. "He's… grumpy. And short. And snarl-y?"

He snorted. "Sounds like a friend of mine. We were in a project together. Mutant project. Jimmy and me were the bestest of friends."

"You're a mutant?"

He grinned. "Duh! I'm all…" he waved a hand vaguely. "Awesome and stuff. I heal. And… kill things."

Rogue nodded uncertainly.

Marco… somebody came back, a little startled to find another person at the table. "Lo siento. I did not know you were expecting someone…" he trailed off, glancing curiously at Wade. The man glared at him. Marco quailed. "Are you ready to order?"

"Chimichangas," Wade said authoritatively. "Three of them. And a Pepsi."

Marco nodded, his hand shaking a little as he wrote down the order. Turning to Rogue he said, "And you, senorita?"

"Oh, one of the chimichangas is for her," Wade said. "You didn't think I was gonna eat all of those myself, did you? Well, I coulda, but did you really think I had so little manners as to do that?"

Marco shook his head quickly. "No, no, senor. They will be ready as soon as possible." He scurried away, leaving Rogue shaking her head bemusedly at the masked man. "What if Ah don' like chimichangas?" she asked teasingly. The look he gave her bordered on horror. "What? How can you not like chimichangas? Of course you like chimichangas! You- you're yankin' my chain."

She laughed. "Yeah."

With a sigh of relief, he wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead. "Whew. Had me worried there. I thought- NINJA!"

Before Rogue could manage more than a confused, "The heck?" Wade had jumped on top of the table and whipped out a pair of katanas that had previously been safely strapped to his back. He pointed them menacingly at the stunned and terrified young man bearing a heavy tray laden with chimichangas and Pepsi.

Shocked patrons and staff all stared at the obviously crazy man on the table. Marco turned wide eyes to Rogue in an obvious attempt to make her stop the _loco hombre _from murdering him. Wade continued to brandish his katanas wildly. Unsure of what to do, the Southerner cleared her throat.

"Uh, Wade? That's…" she flinched as he whirled a katana in her direction. "That's a waiter. He's bringin' the chimichangas."

Magically, as if the mention of that particular food flipped a switch somewhere inside, Wade lowered the blades and jumped down off the table. "Chimichangas? Well, why didn't ya say so!" he said jovially.

"Probably 'cause you were wavin' really big swords in his face," Rogue grumbled under her breath.

"Eh? What's that?"

"Nothin'."

* * *

><p>"So," Wade said as they ate. "What's your mutation?"<p>

Rogue choked on her Mexican flavored rice and reached for her tea, taking a huge gulp. Once she could breathe again, she croaked, "What?"

"Your mutation." Wade looked up. "What is it?"

She stared at him. "How did ya know Ah was a mutant?"

"Smelled it on ya," he said, not missing a beat. Her mouth opened silently. "You… you smelled… no. No, you're just messing with me. Right?" she turned her suddenly anxious gaze on him.

He held her green eyes with his own for a minute before giggling. "Yeah… hahaha, yeah, I'm just messing with ya!" He then proceeded to fall into a laughing fit that caused more than a few customers to turn and stare at the odd pair. Rogue shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Abruptly, Wade sat up straight and fixed her with a serious stare. "Your mutation? What is it? You didn't bat an eye when I told you I was a mutant, hence you spend a lot of time around mutants. You weren't at all perturbed when I got out the katanas-"

"Ah wouldn' say that exactly," Rogue murmured.

Ignoring her interruption, he continued, "-So you clearly think you have the ability to take me out if I started causing some serious damage. Untrue, obviously, but still. You're a mutant. Spill."

It occurred to her that telling random mutant men in masks who walked around literally covered in weapons all about herself was perhaps not the most intelligent thing she could do. But the whole day had been sufficiently strange enough for her to ignore Scott's warning voice in her head and the weird fact that Logan's psyche was still asleep, and bare her heart to this oddly endearing lunatic.

* * *

><p>"Love," Wade commented when she had finished telling him about her mutation, Remy, Mystique, Remy, Apocalypse, Remy, her control issues, Remy, and her relationship and trust problems. And Remy.<p>

"Ah know," she groaned, dropping her head onto her crossed arms on the table top. Raising his glass of soda sympathetically, he patted her on the shoulder and sighed.

"Ya know, the way I see it, love is crazy."

She peeked under her arm to see if he was joking. Realizing that he was completely serious, she lifted her head. "O-kay."

He nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh. See me an' my girl, we're tight. We're cool. We are A-Okay. But sometimes…" he trailed off. Rogue waited patiently. After a second, he shook himself. "Sometimes, I wish I could be better for her you know? I _know _I should do better-impossible right? Better than _this_?-but I just can't help myself. I have to take care of things, and then she's all alone. But I always come back, no matter how mad she is, and how wacked out her thinking process gets. Love is crazy, Roguey. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." He downed his Pepsi in one gulp.

A little stunned, and slightly bemused, Rogue simply nodded as though what he'd said made perfect sense-and in a way, it did-and sipped her own iced tea.

* * *

><p>Wade stood up and stretched. Rogue cringed as the movement jarred the various explosives and firearms decorating his person, but relaxed as everything settled properly once more. He held out his hand for her, and after eyeing it suspiciously for a minute, she took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She dropped enough money to pay for her own meal on the table. He offered her his arm and she took it. Maybe they could leave without too much fuss.<p>

Unfortunately, Wade decided to choose that time to start singing "Just You Wait, Henry Higgins" from _"My Fair __Lady."_ The entire restaurant turned to stare at them. Again.

Resigned to a fate she knew there was no escaping from, Rogue allowed the crazy mutant to escort her in between the tables to the front. Ignoring the cries of "Senorita, you haven't paid!" behind her, she strolled out the swinging doors and into the bright sunshine. They'd find the money on the table eventually, and her conscious was clear. As for Wade… she checked on him from the corner of her eye. He might not have paid, but she wasn't entirely sure he really had much of a conscious, so she wasn't too worried about it.

He rather gallantly walked her to her motorcycle, and held the handlebars as she mounted.

"Roguey…" he caught her hand. Startled, her head shot up from where she'd been checking the gas. His brown eyes stared into hers earnestly. "It would never have worked between us, darling." He released her and stepped back, grinning at her astonished expression. Reaching for her clutch, he twisted it. "And by the way," he said, wiggling his eyebrows and leaning close. "Nice boots." He released the clutch and the bike jumped forward a little. Rogue yelped, but recovered quickly and steadied the bike, taking off down the road and not looking back. Wade chuckled to himself and turned back to the restaurant, his eyes narrowing dramatically.

"Now. To deal with that ninja…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Blue, I hope to goodness Wade is up to your standards. I really, really do. I'm worried 'cause there were no Bea Arthur references, but I just didn't know how to handle Bea Arthur at the time.**

**Yes, Wade just quoted Jack Sparrow. What? He's awesome!**

**Additional, Non-Spoiler Disclaimer: I do not own "My Fair Lady."**

**I've been to Paintsville. It's nothing like I described it.**

**Ash... Indy?**

_***sounds of air being whipped around and chairs being thrown pierces the silence***_

**Right, I'll just... leave you two to it then.**

**Next Chapter: Where there's smoke there's fire, and where there's fire… well. Using your head too much can hurt, and when the stress gets to be too much, it's best to just let it all out.**


	8. Chapter 7: The Aggravation

**Disclaimer: Ahh, the bliss that is summer. Relaxing on the beach with your honey-yes, I mean you, Stan, dear-and sipping iced tea. The only thing that would make this moment better would be if I had the rights to X-Men: Evolution sitting on this little table right beside me…**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to FireMakesMeSmile, because I concur, and this chapter should make her smile a lot. :D **

* * *

><p>Chapter 7: The Aggravation<p>

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

Scott Summers shook his head slowly.

"Tell me I'm not seeing this."

Jean stared at the sight before them. "Nrgh!"

St. John Allerdyce smiled lovingly. "Ain't it great?"

The couple turned to stare at him in stupefaction. Over their respective shoulders, a semi-large fire burned merrily. They had awoken to find the rather disturbing sight of Pyro laughing fit to kill and gazing at the blaze in the middle of the foyer. Jean and Scott glared at the Australian.

It was only wood and some weird kind of polish-thing Pyro had found lying around (Okay, so it was in a locked cabinet, so what? He was curious!), but they were acting like he'd actually set something important on fire! He'd gotten the wood from outside, for crying out loud! Maybe they just weren't used to fires inside?

He tried another grin at them. "Doncha loike it?"

"No!" Scott finally found his voice. "Why the heck would we like it? Put that out right now! Geez, I knew you were crazy, but I did count on at least a little intelligence!"

John stiffened. Unknowingly, Scott had done the one thing always guaranteed to make him do the exact opposite of what you told him. St. John did not appreciate being talked down to.

* * *

><p>Charles Xavier wearily rubbed his hands over his face as sat at the breakfast table with Logan and Ororo. Hardly any of the children-including the Brotherhood, who had taken up temporary residence in spare bedrooms-were awake at this hour, though he knew Jean and Scott would be soon if they were not already.<p>

It had been a long couple of days. Carefully, Xavier did the math in his head. Rogue had left on Wednesday, the Brotherhood showed up that same day. He'd checked in with her twice a day, barely probing her mind, and so had checked six times. Three days since his mansion had been invaded by hooligans, never mind that two of the greatest chaos-inducers of his own household were not at home. Not that he'd have it any other way. Bringing the teams together was always a good thing. Peace and Harmony and all that. Still… He sighed.

"Are you feeling all right, Charles?" Ororo's concerned voice cut into his musing. Startled, he looked up to find her and Logan watching him closely. He forced a smile. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. I just…" He stopped blinking. Well. That was surprising.

"I… I appear to have a slight headache."

* * *

><p>Somewhere, Kentucky<p>

A few hours later, Rogue growled in frustration as the traffic surged slowly forward. Stopping and starting a motorcycle was nowhere near as easy as doing the same with a car.

She'd been on the road since early this morning, and the traffic had been this horrendous for more than half that time. _Note to self, next time Ah decide ta take a road trip on a motorcycle, tell me Ah'm an idiot an' get me a pick-up._

_Will do, Rogue, _Kitty's cheerful psyche exclaimed. Rogue grinned. Then she frowned.

_Hey, Kit, where the heck is Logan? Ah haven't heard from him in awhile._

The psyche frowned and set her feet on the floor of Scott's mental car which was stuck in traffic on Rogue's mental highway. She craned her neck over the seat to see Remy and Logan on their motorcycles behind her. _He's right behind us, Rogue. I have no idea why he hasn't been talking much lately._

Rogue sighed and stretched out her booted legs and feet, admiring the leather. Irritating psyche or not, the man sure had good taste in women's boots. _Have to ask him about that, later._ She rolled her neck. Logan would talk when he was ready. But she had to admit, no matter how much she complained about the psyches, having two of them giving her the silent treatment was disorienting, and she really didn't like it.

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

Scott had thought he could not possibly be more horrified than he had been when he awoke to a fire in the foyer. That was before he stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and saw the damage.

Everywhere he looked, grass had been torn up from the roots and deposited in a rapidly growing pile in the center of the lawn. As he watched, an orange blur came rolling up to the porch steps and flattened itself on the grass.

"Hiya, mate," the Aussie said happily. "See my fuel pile? You all have some prime fire starter right here."

Wanda smirked to herself as a very unmanly shriek cut through the tranquil, early morning air. A few seconds later, Scott came stomping into the kitchen, where Wanda and Jean were quietly eating breakfast and ignoring each other. He marched right to Wanda and stood over her, glaring down through red shades. "Wanda."

She took her time about setting down her coffee cup and acknowledging him. When she finally looked up into his face, he was nearly bright red with suppressed shouts. He'd learned the hard way that Wanda did not like being yelled at.

"Yes, Summers?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He huffed. "Would you kindly control your Aussie?"

The other black, perfectly shaped eyebrow shot up. "_My _Aussie?"

Oblivious to her tone, he continued. "Yes, that psychotic, trouble-making, fire-starting, insane idiot who has the nerve to call himself a saint!"

Wanda couldn't hide her grin. "What's he done now?"

Scott was pacing. Jean's eyes were wide, and darting back and forth between her boyfriend and the younger girl. "Well for starters, he built a fire in the foyer this morning, and then asked me if I liked it. Then, just now, I stepped outside for a second and discovered that he's destroyed the entire lawn!"

Wanda stretched lazily. "Is that all?"

"Isn't that enough?" Jean asked incredulously. "The entire lawn, Scott? It's only nine o'clock in the morning!"

"Oh, yeah," Wanda agreed cheerfully. "If you let him, he'll just keep on going. Little pyro, probably had too much sugar in his coffee this morning."

Scott and Jean stared at her in horror.

* * *

><p>Xavier reflexively schooled his features into serenity as he maneuvered his chair down the hallway to Cerebro. Despite having the worst headache he could recall experiencing in a long time, he knew that letting himself scowl would simply make things worse. He would begin projecting, and probably give Jean a headache, and by association, Scott.<p>

Carefully, he leaned forward, giving the security system his eye for the retina-scan.

* * *

><p>Somewhere, Kentucky<p>

Rogue wasn't sure if it was the stress of losing Remy-however temporary that may be-or the fact that she'd been riding a motorcycle since six AM, but she did know the symptoms of a temper tantrum-if not the causes-when she saw them.

Or felt them coming on.

Slowly, she breathed in and out, ignoring the honking of car horns around her as she drove. In and out. In and out. In and- SCREECH! Traffic stalled again.

Rogue gritted her teeth.

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

Jean thought the plan was brilliant. Scott had agreed, and so it was done. The plan would be executed without further delay.

The plan was, in its most basic form, to get rid of all sources of fire in the mansion, at least until Pyro came down off his sugar high. They started with the easy ones. Matches from the medicine cabinets and mantles were confiscated. Lighters, some of which were found in rather compromising pockets-they'd have to talk to Ray later-were disposed of. They didn't go near Hank's lab, mostly because he was gone for a few weeks and had locked the place up tighter than one of Magneto's entry-only-by-magnetism domes. Essentially, all potential for fire was removed from the reach of anyone who wasn't Jean or Scott. Or Logan, but, you know. Logan.

Now came the hard part.

The Aussie was doing what appeared to be some form of fire dance around his "fuel pile" which he had apparently decided was high enough and set aflame. The orange and yellow tongues of fire leapt carefully into the air, and the gray swirls of smoke lazily drifted over the mansion roof.

The two X-Men glanced back over their shoulders into the safety of the mansion's entryway, only to find Wanda leaning in the doorframe, watching them with an amused expression on her pale face.

"Are you going to help?" Jean asked icily. Wanda grinned. "Oh, no. I'm here to watch the fireworks. Pun intended."

Scowling, the pair turned their backs on the Scarlet Witch and began moving towards the orange-haired Aussie, who continued his odd movements, innocently unaware of his imminent doom.

The fire was climbing higher and higher, the crackling of the flames was getting louder and louder, and Wanda's smirk was getting more and more smug with every step they took in John's direction, but neither Jean nor Scott truly realized what they'd stepped into until the pyromaniac turned around and faced them, blue eyes wild and face flushed with the heat.

"'Ello, kids. Let's play tag. I'm it."

Logan glanced out of the front windows and did a double take. He could've sworn he'd just seen Jean and Scott being chased by horses made of fire.

Oh. Yeah, there they went again. He shook his head and made a hesitant move towards the door, glancing longingly back to his coffee mug and waiting garage door.

"He won't hurt them."

Surprised, Logan barely stifled a shout before turning to look at Wanda Maximoff, who stood in the doorway to the mansion, leaning on one side and watching him with smiling blue eyes, a far cry from when he had first met her, full of anger and hate.

"'S that so?" he said gruffly. She waved a hand airily. "Oh, yeah. Johnny's harmless. Or… mostly. Usually. Sometimes." She scrunched up her face. Logan raised an eyebrow. She shook her head. "The point is, he won't hurt them. He's hyper, not malicious."

Logan spent less than a minute weighing the pros and cons of going out after the insane Aussie before giving the black and red haired girl a nod and an acknowledging smirk. "Alright then, Pixie." Without another word, he turned and strode to the garage, leaving Wanda scowling after him. "Pixie?"

* * *

><p>Somewhere, Kentucky<p>

It had been brewing for a while. The hot sun, the irritations of traffic on a motorcycle, the aggravation of being ignored by two of her psyches, and the unfairness of the whole situation combined all at once and came down on the unfortunate head of the driver who had been unlucky enough to decide to cut Rogue off.

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

In spite of his headache, Charles Xavier knew he had to use his mutation to locate and check on Rogue. The poor girl was all alone out there, searching for a wayward lover, and she needed to know that people at home were caring for her.

Wincing a little as the pain stabbed in his temples, he adjusted the Cerebro focusing helmet and concentrated on Rogue. He searched carefully, smiling in pained triumph as he found her in Kentucky, and then honed in on her mind, specifically. He was hoping to merely get a glimpse of her thoughts so as to have something to tell the others, since he didn't feel up to doing any probing.

As it turned out, probing was unnecessary.

Rogue was projecting. Loudly.

Blanching a little at the language she was using, the Professor nevertheless had to be impressed with Rogue's grasp of linguistics. Catching more than a few French words in the almost unintelligible garble of fury, he mused that much of it was probably Remy's influence.

Removing the helmet, he rubbed a hand over his smooth head. Perhaps he would try again later. He really didn't think Rogue's current attitude was going to be very conducive to Peace and Harmony.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Road rage amuses me, probably far more than it should.**

**Ash and Indy are AWOL again. Honestly, you'd think I'd know where they are, since they do live in _my _head, but nooo...**

**Next Chapter: It's funny how many problems in life can be solved by asking for directions.**


	9. Chapter 8: The Directions

**Disclaimer: Stan, what do you mean we need to take a break? Stan! Stan! Is this about that break-in at your office in which the papers detailing the rights to X-Men: Evolution were stolen? 'Cause I swear, I had **_**nothing **_**to do with that!**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Ilovebookshowaboutyou because she is a faithful reviewer, even unto other fandoms. **

* * *

><p>Chapter 8: The Directions<p>

* * *

><p>Somewhere, Mississippi<p>

Rogue hated gas stations.

Kitty never understood why, but Remy had always commiserated. Some places are just creepy.

Still, gas stations are handy in some ways, especially when you want cheap junk food and you want it fast.

Rogue grumbled a little at her grumbling stomach as she strode towards the gas station, knee-high boots clomping on the pavement in irritation.

The little bell over the door dinged as Rogue pushed the heavy glass open and walked into the air-conditioned building. The man behind the counter nodded at her, and she gave him a little wave back before turning her attention to the back of the store.

Selecting a bag of potato chips and a bottled soft drink, Rogue started for the front counter to pay. And then, it happened.

As she set her purchases on the counter, she looked up and caught sight of the array of cigarette brands for sell. Her eyes fastened on a case with a blue covering. Remy smoked that brand.

Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears and she choked back a sob. Joss, she missed him so much. _Why did Ah haveta be so stubborn an' scared? If Ah'd jus' admitted to the truth, Ah'd be home now, curled up somewhere with Remy. He'd be wearin' that stupid coat, an' Ah'd be wearin' mah gloves, an' we'd be arguin' 'cause that's what we always do. An'… an' he'd be smokin' those dang cigarettes, an' Ah'd be threatenin' to leave if he didn't put 'em out, but we'd both know Ah was bluffin'… _she sniffed, hard.

"Miss?"

Rogue's head shot up. The cashier was smiling hesitantly at her. "Miss, that'll be three forty-nine."

"Oh," she wiped at her eyes with her glove. "Yeah, um, lemme just…" she fumbled in her back pocket for her wallet. "Here ya go."

"Thank you." His eyes studied her as she tried to get herself under control, even as he rang up her change for the five dollar bill. "Miss?"

She looked up again. "Yeah?"

He smiled again. "Is… is everythin' alright?"

A little taken aback, she sputtered. "Yes! Everything is… is… everything…" her breath hitched. "Ah…"

His voice was sympathetic. "Do ya wanna talk 'bout it?"

His accent was smoothly Mississippian, a southern reminder of how close she was to Louisiana. She took comfort in the familiar cadence of her home state. Slowly, she let her green eyes drift over the man before her. Thirties, attractive, brown hair and eyes. The gas station t-shirt uniform fit him well. He wore glasses and a mustache. His eyes were kind.

"Ah… Ah'm just…" she looked at him helplessly. Politely, he held out a handkerchief. In spite of herself, she smiled at the distinctly Southern gesture. "Tell me 'bout it," he invited.

Rogue looked at him, and she looked at the cigarette stand, and she fingered the handkerchief. "Alright," she heard herself say.

* * *

><p>In the back of Rogue's mind, Jean, Scott, Kitty, and Logan all leaned over a gas station counter and peered at the man before her. Remy stood a little off to the side, watching the proceedings silently.<p>

"He's like, a sweetie," Kitty pronounced.

Scott shook his head. "She really shouldn't just go around telling everyone she meets the whole story." Jean nodded in concerned agreement. "Nobody's that helpful and friendly."

Logan snorted. "Stripes is a big girl. She can take care of herself. Besides, it's Mississippi. Everybody _is _that helpful an' friendly."

They all looked at Remy to see what he had to say, only to find that he was ignoring them all. Instead, his red and black eyes were fixed firmly on Rogue. A small, adoring smile played around his lips. His hands were twitching, probably because of the cigarette stand not two feet to his left, but his gaze never wavered from the young woman he'd come to call his _chere_.

Jean resisted the urge to say, "Aww." Kitty did not. Scott and Logan looked disgusted.

* * *

><p>"So that's why Ah'm here," Rogue finished at last. The story kept getting longer every time she told it. Maybe that was because she'd included meeting Betsy and Wade, as well as all the cows and chickens and corn. Really, if she was gonna keep telling it, she'd have to find a way to condense the thing a little.<p>

The cashier, whose name-tag proclaimed his moniker to be Tony, looked thoughtful. And a little stunned. "That's… quite a tale ya got there."

Abruptly, Rogue realized that she'd just revealed her mutant status and declared herself to be in search of another mutant. A mutant who might possibly have several arrest warrants out, considering his past employer. But not his thieving lifestyle. Remy never got caught.

_Snap. This ain't good._

_See, Rogue? Maybe next time you should listen to me and Scott. _Jean's voice was smug. Rogue rolled her eyes and sent Tony a cautious smile. _But he was so nice!_

"Uh… you ain't one of those mutant haters are you? 'Cause if you are, Ah'm sorry, but Ah'm gonna have to absorb you."

He looked surprised, like the thought never even crossed his mind. "Mutant hater? Good Lord, no. Ah just want to help. Besides," he smiled lopsidedly. "Ah don' think Ah'm wantin' ta cross a lady who'll drive all over the country for her man."

She gave him an appreciative grin. "Darn straight, you ain't."

His smile became thoughtful again. "What did you say your Cajun's name was again?"

"Remy," she answered, ignoring Jean and Scott's protests and relishing the way his name came off her tongue.

Tony nodded. "An' what did he look like?"

She smiled dreamily. "He's tall, real tall, an' lean, but not skinny, ya know, jus… anyway. His hair's the same color as mine, only without the white parts, an' his eyes are… well, Ah guess they're a little strange, but Ah think they're gorgeous. Red irises, surrounded by black. Oh, an' he always wears this trench coat-"

"Red and black eyes, you say?" the man interrupted. Stopping, Rogue frowned a little. "Yeah…"

He grinned. "Ah've seen him."

She blinked. "Huh?"

"Your Cajun. Ah've seen him. He was in here only… day before yesterday, Ah think."

Her eyes widened. "You saw… Remy?" She knew her voice caught, but she didn't care. Tony gave her a smile. "Yeah, yeah, Miss Rogue, Ah did. He bought cigarettes and some kind of chocolate bar, an' said he was headed south on the 42."

Tears flooded her eyes again, but instead of letting them fall, Rogue smiled brightly at the kind man. "Thank you, thank you so much." Surprising them both, she reached across the counter and gave him a hug. He grinned at her when she pulled back, and quickly reached out and wiped away a drop that had escaped from her eye, barely brushing her skin, and not long enough for her mutation to truly kick in.

"Here, now, none of that. Ah'm glad ta be of service. You catch him, you two stop on your way back up North, you hear?"

Giving him her promise, Rogue collected her snacks and left the gas station. Arranging her small package, she settled onto her bike and prepared to take off.

* * *

><p>The psyches scrambled for the door of the mental gas station. Remy reached it first, striding out into the lot and hopping astride his red and black Harley, then waiting impatiently for the others to settle themselves. He eyed Rogue, ignoring Kitty's questioning of Logan, "Like, seriously, where did you find those boots?" and smiled when he caught a glimpse of her determined face, framed by that gorgeous hair and accented by flashing emerald eyes. "Dat's m' girl,"he whispered.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The chocolate Remy bought is for Midnight Aurora, because her Remy loves chocolate only slightly less than he loves Rogue, and he loves them both even more when you combine them.**

_**Indy don' like Ash.**_

**What?**

_**Not like dat. Not like... Indy don' like him.**_

**...**

_**Wey-al, that wasn't completely unconvincin' 'tall, luv.**_

_**Shut up, Ashy.**_

**Riiiiight... that was weird.**

**Next Chapter: It's all in the mind, really. **


	10. Chapter 9: The Mentalist

**Disclaimer: Remy? Remy? Yeah, it's me. Listen, I'm gonna need you to bring back those papers. Yeah, I know you just got them. Yes, yes, I understand that you went to a lot of trouble- Remy. C'mon Rems. I'll write you a one-shot… Of course it'll be a Romy! What kind of a fangirl do you take me for? Alright then. Thanks. Ciao.**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: To Cute Little Foxy and fantasyfan1999, 'cause between the two of you, I'm almost constantly laughing.**

**Blue, please kindly excuse my shameless theft of your marvelous idea. (See chapter title.) Also, _how _did you _guess_?**

* * *

><p>Chapter 9: The Mentalist<p>

* * *

><p>Somewhere, Mississippi<p>

Five. Days.

It had been five days since Rogue awoke to find that stupid note on her pillow. Five days since that dumb Cajun decided to run off to New Orleans after telling her he loved her. Five days she had spent on a motorcycle, slept in motels, and eaten cheap diner food.

At least she was headed south again.

Rogue swung her leg over the seat of Logan's motorcycle and resignedly eyed the small building before her. It _looked _clean enough, but over the past few years, Rogue had come to assume every restaurant she entered as disgusting before proven acceptable. She'd spent too much time looking for decency where there was none to be found.

Resisting the urge to shoot a glare in the direction of the overly cheerful waitress who showed her to her table, Rogue sat down carefully and leaned her elbows on the polished wooden surface. Ordering an iced tea and then picking up the menu, she scanned the items listed, trying to ignore her psyches, who all decided to voice their opinions on her meal at the same time.

_Fish, _Kitty said decidedly. _It's good for your immune system._

_I think a salad would be healthier, _Jean piped up.

_Don't they have anything on this menu that doesn't have a fancy-shmancy name and a huge price tag? _Logan growled.

Scott put in his own ideas on the perfect sandwich, provoking an argument from Kitty, and inevitably involving Jean and Logan.

In the restaurant she'd automatically created in her mind, Rogue glanced at Remy, the only one who hadn't said a word. He looked back, catching her eye and smiling at her. She couldn't help the grin that spread across her own face.

Knowing that she probably looked like an idiot, grinning stupidly at nothing sitting across the table from her, Rogue wrenched herself out of her own mind and back into the real world, leaving the psyches to their sandwich discussion and promising herself she'd order chicken.

* * *

><p>He watched her from his table two rows down from hers. She'd been smiling widely just a minute ago, and now was wearing a rather aggravated expression. She appeared to be holding some sort of internal conversation with herself, while tapping her booted foot on the floor.<p>

Patrick Jane studied the pretty girl with the unusual hair and smiled. Perhaps this vacation wouldn't be as boring as he had feared.

* * *

><p>Rogue looked up when the blond, curly haired man sat down in the seat across from her and groaned. Loudly.<p>

He looked bemused.

"I must say, that isn't the most flattering welcome I've ever received from a lady."

She gave him a longsuffering look. "Listen, if you're insane, obsessed with chimichangas, and paranoid about ninjas, could you just do me a huge favor and go away? Right now?"

He grinned. "If I tell you that I am none of the above, can I stay?"

Rogue scrutinized that face, charmed in spite of herself. There was something of Remy in his flirtatious smile and his deviously innocent eyes. True, he was at least twenty years older than Remy and had blue eyes instead of red, but… just something.

Rogue found herself saying, "Alright."

* * *

><p>If the waitress was surprised to find an extra customer at her table when she returned with the iced tea, she didn't show it. She simply pulled out her pad and asked if they were ready to order.<p>

Rogue ordered the chicken. Patrick, the fish. Kitty was smug.

_See, Rogue? The cute, smart guy knows best!_

_Kit, he's as old as Logan._

_Rogue, nobody's as old as Logan._

_Touche._

_Hey!_

_Sorry, Wolvie._

_I swear, Stripes, one more word…_

Rogue laughed aloud, then froze. Patrick was watching her closely. "Something funny?" he asked pleasantly.

"N-no," she stammered. "Just… havin' a moment."

"Ahh." His eyes were still trained squarely on her face. Suddenly annoyed, Rogue shot him a glare. _He _is _jus' like Remy! _"Can Ah help you?"

"You're from Mississippi are you not?" he asked abruptly.

"Yeah. What about it?"

He leaned forward. "You're from Mississippi, but not from around here. You're a beautiful young woman, probably just out of school and now in college. Your clothing style suggests New York, but your accent has lost none of its thickness. It's blazing hot outside, and yet you are wearing a long-sleeved jacket and gloves. Your skin is awfully pale for a southern girl. You're a very interesting girl, Rogue-and that's not even counting your name. What are you doing in this li'l town?"

She stared at him. "Ah... why… you…"

He grinned. "Come on. I bet it's a good story."

Despite herself, she flushed.

He nodded like she'd just told him everything. "Aha. I see. Men. We're so stupid sometimes, aren't we?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "What are you, some kind of psychic?"

He chuckled. "Oh, no. Psychics don't exist."

"I beg to differ," she muttered, thinking of Irene. He ignored her.

"I am, for lack of a better term, an observer of human behavior. I memorize patterns, and then look for them in other places. You blushed when I asked for your story. That could only mean two things. One, you're running away, or two, your love-life has gone awry. And since you hold yourself in a way that suggests you are not familiar with your own attractiveness, I'd venture to say you made a mistake-refused him perhaps, and are now on your way to correct the error."

He'd never seen eyes so big. Finally she huffed.

"Well, since ya know everything anyhow, Ah might as well tell you the whole story."

He leaned back in the booth, pleased. "I'm all ears."

* * *

><p>"…And then the gas station man told me he'd just seen Remy, an' so Ah got on mah bike again an' took off, an' now, here Ah am."<p>

Jane was nodding, accepting the fact that she was a mutant easily and without prejudice. His only comment was, "Ah. So that's why you believe in psychics." She'd confessed that she lived with a pre-cog and he'd let the information pass as simply as she'd given it. The whole tale seemed crazy and incomplete, something a nutcase would dream up, but he sat there, quietly absorbing it all. Rogue really couldn't express her gratitude.

"Mr. Jane-"

"Ah, just Jane, please, or Patrick. I may be older than you, but mister just makes it worse." He smiled what Rogue had begun privately calling his Remy-grin, and she couldn't help but reciprocate. "Patrick… thank you. You know, for letting me talk. Ah… it helps sometimes, to just tell the whole thing."

He waved away her thanks calmly. "Oh, no need to thank me. I know I'm quite helpful."

She hid her smile. _He's modest like Remy too._

Jane leaned forward once more. "Rogue…"

She set down her glass, touching her lips momentarily with a gloved hand. "Hm, yes?"

He folded his hands. "I believe… that I can help you with your control issue."

For what felt like the hundredth time since the conversation began, her mouth dropped open and she stared at him.

"So, what you're saying," Rogue said carefully. "Is that you know how to control my mutation."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, that is what I am saying."

She sat back and crossed her arms. "Okay, then, show me."

Jane chuckled. "It isn't quite that simple, honey."

"Try me."

He studied her. Over the past few minutes, he'd learned a few things about this girl. One, she was stubborn, two, she was frustrated, and three, she was in love. It was a dangerous combination. It was also one of Patrick Jane's favorite attitudes to work with.

"Okay then," he said finally. "Give me your hands." She gave him an amused look, but did as he asked. He took her hands in his gently. "Now," he said, his voice slipping into the soft cadence of hypnosis automatically. "Try to imagine a mental palace. It doesn't have to be an actual palace, just someplace you're familiar with-"

"Been there, done that," she interrupted. He cocked his head. She grinned. "Remember the psyches? In my mind, there is a mental copy of pretty much everywhere I go, and everywhere I've been, so that they can come along with me, instead of just drifting up there. It's a technique Professor Xavier taught me, to keep them calm and give them purpose, a help me stay sane."

"I'd like to meet your professor," he said thoughtfully. She laughed. "Maybe one day you will." He shrugged. "Perhaps. Anyway, shall we continue?" Rogue nodded and he resumed.

" Close your eyes. " She did so. "Now imagine your palace. Focus on the psyches, where they are in the palace, and what they are doing. Now move past them, and focus on yourself. Try to find the center of your mutation, where it is, what it is. Imagine it in a box, a box that is opened every time you touch someone, no matter how you try to hold it closed. Okay. Now, imagine a lock for the box. A big, strong lock, that only you hold the key to. That's it, that's it… nice and easy, very good. Just build that lock…" his voice trailed off as Rogue's breathing evened out, indicating her trance state. He then carefully slipped the glove off of her left hand and touched her fingers.

Rogue snapped out of the light doze she seemed to have fallen into and snatched her hand away. But her mutation had done its work. Patrick Jane was slumped in the seat before her, and a tiny, three-piece suited copy of him was forming in the back of her mind.

He was only out for a few minutes, but it felt like hours to Rogue as she sat in her booth, sipping her tea, and prayed nobody had seen what happened.

"Uhh," he groaned. Her head whipped around.

"Patrick! Are you alright? Can you see? How many fingers?" she held up three.

He rolled his blue eyes. "Sixteen. I'm perfectly fine, my dear, just a little dizzy."

"Oh," she sat back. "Good." And then she was mad at him. "You idiot! You _are _just like him! An' now Ah have both of ya! What were you thinkin'?"

He smiled at her, that irresistibly charming smile. "Rogue, I was trying to help."

She let out a choked laugh. "Ah'm failin' ta see how that helped."

He reached forward and grasped her bare hand. She gasped and immediately tried to wiggle her fingers out of his grip, but he held tight.

"Rogue, think. What's happening? More to the point, what is _not_ happening?"

She concentrated. "My mutation… Ah ain't absorbin' you!"

He sat back satisfied. "Rogue, my mind is a rather dark and frightening place at times, but it is, if I do say so myself, a steel trap. All that about a box was a load of horse-hooey, but with my mental powers, you have the will and the control necessary to exert yourself over the mutation. I have, in essence, enhanced your natural stubbornness and fueled it with the mental strength you needed to turn it off or on at will."

Dumbfounded, she stared at him. "My mutation?" she whispered. He smiled kindly. "Is yours to command. When you want it, turn it on. When you don't, turn it off. It's that simple."

Rogue felt faint. After years of stress and anxiety, and summer after blazing summer of freaking long-sleeves, and ages and _ages _of those awful gloves… she had control. Just. Like. That.

Her green eyes suddenly swimming, she looked up at Patrick. "Where were you when Remy was tryin' to convince me that we were made for each other?" she wondered, smiling through her tears. A pleased grin broke out across his face.

The moment was broken by a shrill beep. Jane glanced down at his phone. "Darn it. I've got to take this." He stood, gallantly offering Rogue is hand. "My dear, it's been a pleasure. I do hope we'll meet again."

She smiled at him, huge green eyes so bright he felt like he'd be blinded by looking into them. "Patrick… Ah don' know what to say." He laughed. "Then don't say anything. That's my motto."

She giggled. "Ah'll remember that." Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she tiptoed up and kissed his cheek. His surprised, "Oh!" made her laugh again, and the pleasure on his face made giving the first kiss of her control to someone other than Remy worth it. Besides, it wasn't a proper kiss anyway.

* * *

><p>He walked her out to her motorcycle. As she climbed on, he said, "By the way, I wanted to ask you: where <em>did<em> you get those boots? I have a lady friend who I think should have a pair."

She grinned. "Oh? Is this lady friend _special_ by any chance?"

He smiled to himself. "Perhaps."

Rogue laughed. "Well, sorry, but Ah can't help ya. Logan, Ah told you 'bout him, he's the one who got them for me, an' he won't tell anybody where he got them."

He waved his hand. "Ah, no matter." Pressing a kiss to her re-gloved hand, he grinned as she blushed. "Au revoir, my dear. I do hope you find your lover. I'd like to meet him." He stepped away as she kicked the bike into gear. _He is _just _like Remy!_

* * *

><p>Patrick Jane was not a man who was uncomfortable in many places. He could easily adapt to most situations in a blink.<p>

But then, this wasn't most situations.

He stood facing the red-head, the boy with the red sunglasses, the perky little girl with the ponytail, and the scary, grumpy man with the cowboy hat, nervously adjusting his vest.

"Erm… hello." They all stared at him. Then, the girl, Kitty said, "Hi!" and the rest mumbled a greeting. They all appeared to be waiting for something, though they stood on an abandoned highway, surrounded by vehicles.

Jane realized quickly that they were all staring at something behind him, and he turned to see what it was.

He came face to face with six feet two inches of trench-coated, red and black eyed Cajun, leaning on the seat of a red and black Harley, and eyeing him suspiciously.

Behind him, the other psyches seemed to hold their breath. Finally, the tall man grunted, and turned his head. Instantly, the others climbed into or onto their various forms of transportation and prepared to leave.

Patrick stood there awkwardly as they slowly drove by him, wondering how he was to follow. He had just resigned himself to walking when the Harley pulled up beside him. Its rider was still refusing to look at him, but Jane took the gesture of his hand to mean he was to be given a ride. He climbed on carefully, grasping the trench coat gently.

The psyche turned his head then, to make sure he was settled, and Jane caught the eye of Remy LeBeau. In it gleamed mischief, and mayhem, and a gratitude beyond anything Jane had imagined for a long time. And then, Remy released the clutch, and they were off.

* * *

><p>Jane chuckled to himself as he climbed into his car. Flipping open his phone, he hit redial.<p>

"Lisbon? Yes, it's me. Why of course I'm enjoying my forced vacation. Honestly, what did I do that was so bad? Well, anything sounds bad when you say it in that tone of voice! Lisbon, I have to tell you something. Yeah, I met this young lady a few minutes ago, and she had this beautiful pair of boots… aw, come on, Lisbon! They're perfect for you! Fine. Spoil all my fun. The case? Yeah, I'm on my way. It should only take me a few days to drive back. Where am I? Mississippi, why do you ask? Lisbon? Lisbon? Hello?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: My first attempt at a crossover. Here's hoping everyone's in character. *crosses fingers***

**Next Chapter: Holding two different conversations at one time is stressful enough when the people you're talking to are right next to you. It gets even harder when they're in different states.**


	11. Chapter 10: The Call

**Disclaimer: Sta-an, I have something for you… Ta-DA! Yes, Stan, this is the rights to X-Men: Evolution, right here in my hands. I managed to negotiate with the thieves. What! Stan, that accusation has **_**n**_**o foundation whatsoever! For the sixth time, I did not hire Remy LeBeau to steal the rights, and even if I did, you couldn't prove it, so there!**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Chellerbelle, because I would like to believe she's reading this story. **

* * *

><p>Chapter 10: The Call<p>

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

Logan wasn't sure how he ended up on phone duty, but he was sure that he never wanted it to happen again. Having to be polite to people he knew was bad enough, being required to extend the same courtesy to strangers over the phone was almost more than he could logically be expected to bear.

"What?" he snarled into the receiver for the seventh time that morning. "No, I am not interested in purchasing the equivalent of a treadmill for a much lower price! I have a DANGER ROOM! I don't need your exercise crap!" Slamming the phone down, he took a deep breath. And then it rang again.

"Agh!" Snatching the receiver from its cradle, he growled, "If you're sellin' somethin', take my word for it, we ain't buyin', an' you might be in danger if you don't shut up and hang up."

There was silence for a minute. Then, "Um, hi. This is Betsy Braddock? This is the Xavier Institute, right?"

With an effort, Logan calmed himself. "Yeah, that's us. Braddock? You that telepath Chuck was askin' about?"

Relief colored her voice. "Yes, yes that's me."

He sighed, resigning himself to a conversation filled with more excuses. "What can I do for you, hon?"

"I was wondering if you had any news of Rogue."

Logan sat up straight. "Rogue? What about her?"

"Well that's what I wanted to ask you. I met Rogue on her way out of state her first day on the road, and I just wanted to check on her and…"

"Hold on a second," Logan rubbed his forehead. "You saw Rogue?"

"Yes, she spent the night with me. I know all about Remy, and her little road trip."

He sighed. "Dang it, Stripes should know better than to tell strangers that kinda stuff."

She laughed. "I'm hardly a stranger, Mister…"

"Logan. Just Logan."

"Logan. And to be truthful, it's entirely my fault. As a telepath, I admit to being a bit nosy at times."

"You can say that again," he growled softly. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Well-"

"Hold on there, Nosy, I'm gettin' a call on another line," he said. Switching the mansion line onto speaker phone, he pulled out his personal cell and groaned when he saw the number.

"Wilson, this better be important." In his other ear, Betsy was chattering on, something about Rogue's boots.

"Jimmy! You don't sound happy to hear from me."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's 'cause I ain't. What do you want?"

"Logan? Logan?"

Wade's voice suddenly pitched an entire octave higher. "Who is that? Who's there, Jimmy?"

"Nobody," he answered. "Just someone on another line. What did you have to tell me?"

But Wade was now distracted. "I know that voice… hello? Can you hear me?"

"Wade?"

Betsy's voice was shocked, but pleased. Wade's already animated tone reached an entirely new level of excited. "Betsy! Bets, baby! Betsy… I didn't know you knew Jimmy!"

"She doesn't," Logan growled. "She's callin' about one of the kids."

"Oh! Is it Rogue?"

"Yeah- wait. How do you know about Rogue?"

Wade wasn't listening. "Betsy, I've gotta tell you, I didn't mean to be away so long, but I had to go deal with the Nick Fury issue down in Kentucky. I'm on my way back to New York, I swear."

She laughed. "Okay, Wade, it's okay. Just… hurry, alright?"

"I am, I am!"

"Hey!" Logan yelled. "Focus you two! What do you know about Rogue?"

As per usual Wade, he switched topics instantly and flawlessly. "Oh, Roguey. Tellin' ya, Jimmy, she's a sweet girl. That Remy fella's a lucky guy."

Betsy piped up. "Oh, I know, right? She seemed like she really loved him."

"Wade, where did you see her?"

"Hmm? Oh, Kentucky. Mexican restaurant. She told me all about Remy and the mansion and all that fun stuff you guys do."

Logan sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I'm gonna have to have a talk with that girl about tellin' people stuff," he said to no one in particular. Which was fine, because Betsy and Wade weren't listening to him anyway.

"Wade, is the situation with Fury resolved now? I mean, you're really coming back, right?"

"Yes, I'm really coming… hey! Hey! Come back here with my squirrel, you slobbery mutt!"

The sounds of running crashed in Logan's ear. Wade panted into the receiver. "I'm… on my earpiece… what were you sayin', Jimmy?"

"Me? Nothing at all," Logan said sardonically. "Just thought I might patch you both into the mansion feed, so that I don't have to stand here, holding the phone, and tying up the phone line! You two wanna keep track of Rogue? Then you can dang well do it without goin' through me."

They were both quiet for a minute. "He's kinda touchy ain't he, Bets?"

"Deadpool." Logan's voice was cold. He could practically hear Wade's bones snap as he jumped to attention. "Wolverine."

"Stop chasing that squirrel and get up here. Your girlfriend is waiting, and I don't wanna hear her whine about you the whole time she's patched into our speaker system. Got it?"

"Yes sir! Got it sir! Coming right now, sir!" There was a fumbling noise. "Erhm, Jimmy, I'm gonna have to call you back, 'kay? There's a ninja chasing me."

Betsy spoke up. "Oh, Wade!"

"Sorry, honey. No reflection… oof… on you, but I really, really, _hate _these guys. YAGH! DIE, you long-john, head-sock wearing freak!"

Logan rolled his eyes. "How you two are possibly a couple is completely beyond me."

Betsy seemed eager to elaborate. "Well, it's a funny story actually. You see, he tried to murder me…"

"Save it," Logan cut her off. "I'm gonna go patch you in. Deadpool, call me back when you're done killing the innocent karate kid and I'll hook you up too."

"Will do, Jimmy," came the cheerful reply. "Gotta go, precious. Bye-bye!"

"Bye, Wade!" she called just before Logan cut the connection. "Whew. If I didn't love him, there's no way I'd put up with all that ninja hate- Logan? Logan?"

The phone dangled happily from its cord as its terrifying keeper trudged happily away from it and into the hallway leading to the power room of the mansion.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: By now, you've all pretty much guessed that Betsy and Wade are each other's significant others. It's like, the funniest, crackiest ship I've ever written, I think; and that includes the Appocalypse/Pheonix one-shot. She's a ninja for crying out loud! Wade _hates _ninjas! **

**Isn't it great, what love can do for your tolerance levels?**

_**Hmph. Hasn't done much for Indy's "tolerance levels." She through me inta a wall again, yesterday.**_

_**Y' were annoyin' Indy.**_

**You two do realize that I can hear everything you're saying, right?**

**...**

**...**

_***hexes Ash into a wall***_

**Right. Just so long as that's back to normal.**

**Next Chapter: Remember that one time when he was stalkin' you, an' kidnappin' you, an' botherin' you, an' makin' you mad, an' teasin' you, an' makin' you fall in love with him?**


	12. Chapter 11: The Motel

**Disclaimer: Stan, if your trust issues are this serious, I think we may need to consider couples counseling. I cannot believe the things you accuse me of sometimes! Honestly, how desperate to get my hands on the rights to X-Men: Evolution do you think I am?**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Ace-of-Cyberspace13, because she is awesometastical. ;)**

**Important note: I will not be updating next week due to vacation. Double updates will be provided the following week, so make sure to keep up, since they'll be coming just about every other day. Thanks you.**

**This has been a Public Service Announcement...**

* * *

><p>Chapter 11: The Motel<p>

* * *

><p>Somewhere, Mississippi<p>

Rogue collapsed seamlessly onto the neatly made bed in the tiny motel room. She glanced around listlessly, acknowledging the little fridge and microwave she wouldn't be using, and the coffee pot she most definitely would be, and wishing Remy were here to occupy the empty space in the chair across from her. Or better yet, on the bed next to her.

Flopping back with an exhale of exasperated breath, the striped-haired southerner forcefully shoved away all thoughts of the infuriating Cajun she loved. Thinking about him would do no good, since she had no way of reaching him, and she wasn't any closer to him than she was this morning.

Closing her eyes, she bit her purple-made-up bottom lip. She would not cry. She wouldn't.

She would find Remy, and she would bring him back, and then they would live happily… until he ticked her off again, and then they'd probably fight, and most likely have some sort of break-up, but then he'd be sneaking into her room at three in the morning to give her a playing card and a hopeful smile, and she would give in because how could she not, when faced with those eyes? And then he would try to kiss her-wait, she had control now, she remembered with pleasure-he _would _kiss her, and for the first time, she wouldn't jerk away, trying to save his miserable life, and it would be amazing, and sweet, and delicious, and oh, joss, she missed him so much!

Tears spilled out of her eyes and ran down the sides of her face, painting two streaks from the corner of her eyes to her ears. A sob caught in her throat and her breath came in gasps.

"Why am Ah such an idiot?" she whimpered.

_Do you want the Cliff-Notes version? _Came Kitty's slightly bored reply.

Rogue was about to respond with a-probably slightly soggy-retort when the reality of the psyche caught her attention. _Remy._ He still hadn't spoken to her. A whole week, and he hadn't said a word, not to her, nor any of the psyches. It had to be a record, and thus, it had to stop.

_Logan?_

_Yeah, Stripes?_

_Do me a favor?_

_Name it._

_Tell that Cajun that if he don' start bein' his normal, charmin' self with me soon, Ah'm gonna let you turn him into gumbo._

She heard him chuckle, even though he sounded a little confused. _O-kay, if you say so._

_Ah do, _she said firmly, ending the conversation. In her mind, she sensed a vague flash of alarm from Remy's psyche and smiled to herself in satisfaction.

Turning on her side, Rogue firmly clamped her eyes shut again and willed herself to sleep. Unbidden, but not entirely unwanted, images formed behind her eyelids.

* * *

><p><em>She rounded the corner, carefully tugging at her right glove. Putting her back to the crates, she watched the shadows and listened hard for the sounds signature of someone coming. Confident that she could take whoever it was that was around that bend, she dashed out, and then stopped short.<em>

_Auburn hair tossed lazily over the top of the headpiece of the uniform flopped into that handsome, angular face. A small sole patch and goatee marked his chin, and as she looked higher, warm brown eyes stared into hers._

_Abruptly, she couldn't breathe. _

_He'd smiled at her, a smug, arrogant smile that made her want to hit him and tangle her fingers into his hair at the same time. He held up a playing card and cocked his head to the side. Practically unaware of what was happening, she felt as well as saw him lean towards her. She leaned back automatically, but allowed him to lift her hand and place the card-the King of Hearts-between her fingers. Then, he backed away, and with a two-fingered salute that left her once more convoluted over what she wanted to do to him, he was gone._

_Rogue looked down at the pulsing playing card, her mind clearing just in time for her to throw it as far as she could before it exploded._

She grinned in spite of herself. Their first meeting, and he'd tried to blow her hand off. Who'd have thought that only a year later he'd be declaring his love for her in the Danger Room, while Logan tried to hack him into teensy little Cajun pieces?

_He looked up at her, standing in the control booth of the DR with Storm and Professor Xavier, overseeing his initial Danger-rating (the level he could work up to in the Danger Room before "dying" once), and shouted teasingly, "Je t'aime, chere! If Remy don' make it out alive, jus' tell m' Tante I died fo' a good cause. It won' be de truth, mais, she'll certainly believe such a belle fille!"_

_And then Logan had caught him, and ended the session._

_Rogue had stood frozen, blushing hard and trying not to look at Storm and Professor Xavier. As much as she liked them, she didn't like them _that _much. Definitely not enough for them to have heard that. She could practically hear them thinking, _What _did _happen in Louisiana?

Rogue frowned. That reminded her…

_Walking to school, feeling dejected because she had pushed her mother over a cliff a couple days ago, and then next thing she knew she was being pulled into an alleyway and forced into the role of victim in one of those cheap horror films that are less frightening and more warnings to young girls to stay away from alleys._

_His warm breath in her ear-Why so tense, cherie?-and the scent of spice and cigarettes, and his strong arm wrapped around her shoulders was all she knew before everything went black._

_Awaking on a moving train, bound for the southern border and tied hand and foot, trying to be mad, but unable to keep it up for very long when he was looking at her with those rubies on black velvet he called eyes-strange, Ah thought his eyes were brown, must've been contacts-and smiling that dang smile of his._

_Later, in the Blood Moon Bayou, after betrayal, and anger, and tears, and confessions, he handed her a card, so like their first meeting and so completely different. "Y' got people watchin' out fo' y', chere," he said, even as he turned and walked away. She turned the card over and couldn't help but smile when his Lucky Lady came up._

Rogue felt tears welling up again, but forced them away as yet another memory flashed across her mind...

_He'd only been at the Institute for two days, but to Rogue it felt like weeks. She hadn't been teased, flirted with, or irritated so much in her life. And it was all the work of one man._

_Remy LeBeau was insufferable._

_About fifteen minutes after his arrival and installation as an X-Man, he'd sought her out._

"_So, chere, look like Remy join wit' ya after all."_

_She'd given him a saccharine smile. "How nice. Especially now that all tha hard work's done."_

_He grinned unrepentantly. "Innit?"_

_She glared and walked away._

_He had followed, talking about nothing in particular, and thus making it easy for her to tune him out. But when he said something about Mesmero, he caught her attention._

"_What's that 'bout the tattoo artist from hell?"_

_He smirked. "Remy was jus' sayin' dat he knows what y' went t'rough. He was under Mesmero's control once. Mus' say though…" he ran his eyes over her so thoroughly they might as well have been hands. "De outcome o' y'r side trip int' hypno-land was _much _preferable t' mine."_

_She frowned. "What do you mean?"_

_He looked surprised. "Chere! An' after all we've been t'rough! Y' ain't tellin' dis Cajun y' don' remember what happened when y' took Remy's powers from him dat night?"_

_She shook her head, feeling distinctly uneasy as a full-blown smirk spread across his face. He knew something. "Tell me," she demanded._

_He leaned in close, invading her personal space for the first time since his return. "Y' took out Sabey… y' took out Petey… y' took out Johnny. Bam, bam, bam. One after de ot'er, an' no bones 'bout it. Touch o' de hand is all." He looked at her meaningfully, and she raised an eyebrow. "So?"_

"_So," he grinned again. "When y' went t' put Remy t' sleep, y' didn' use y' hand."_

_The implications of what he was saying hit her. "Ah kissed you."_

"_Yup." He sounded pleased._

_That was the first time she hit him._

* * *

><p>Rogue let a small smile flutter over her lips as she recalled that day. He'd touched her sixteen times over the course of three hours, which he spent following her around the mansion. Not that she was counting.<p>

Each time, she shrugged him off, at first gently, then violently. Soon enough, she was screaming at him, while he just stood there grinning like an idiot, letting her work herself into a frenzy and only retreating when she began looking like she was actually going to do him physical harm.

Gosh, he was so annoying.

Dang, she missed him.

Rolling over on the bed, Rogue never noticed the passage of herself into sleep, knew only that the memories coming now had a sharper, more unrealistic quality to them.

* * *

><p>"<em>Cherrrrre…"<em>

_She paused in her homework. He never drew the pet name out like that unless he had something up his sleeves. Twisting in her seat, she found him to be standing far closer than she'd expected._

"_Remy!" she blustered. "Back up!" She shoved at him, but he didn't move, likely because she was still sitting. So of course, she decided to stand._

_This, of course, brought her nose to chest with him, and much, much too close. She stammered, and tried to back away, but with the desk at her back, and his unmoving self at her front, she wasn't going anywhere._

"_Swamp Rat, lemme go."_

_He smirked at her. "Remy ain't holdin' y', chere."_

_She glared at him. "Cajun, Ah don' have the energy fo' your tricks right now."_

"_Ah, cherie," he said, the smirk fading to an entirely different sort of smile. "It be a good t'ing I do den, non?"_

_And with no further warning than that, he was kissing her, arms wrapped around her, and fingers buried in her hair. Rogue melted into it despite herself, biting back a moan just in time. Suddenly, she thrust him away from her, his psyche's chuckles reverberating through her skull. Horrified, she looked back to him, expecting to find him laid out in the middle of her floor._

_Instead, he was still standing, swaying a little, but fiendishly triumphant. "Remy's got a lot o' energy, chere," he gasped. "Takes mo' dan a petite baiser t' take m' down."_

_She threw him out then, albeit gentler than usual, and stood before her mirror, touching her gloved hand to her lips._

He touched her all the time. Hand to her shoulder, her elbow, her back. Fingers twisting in her hair, and quickly ghosting over her cheek. A pinch to her side, a caress to her neck. All potentially suicidal, all deliciously fleeting.

He had only kissed her twice. The time in her room had been the second time, the first having been after a mission, from which she had come away with scrapes and bruises, while he had been seriously injured. Nevertheless, it was he who ran-limped-to her side, checking her for wounds and sighing with relief when all turned out to be superficial. He had kissed her, not caring who saw, and it was only after he actually collapsed that she considered how weak he was.

She had sat at his bedside until he woke up.

* * *

><p>In Rogue's mind, Remy LeBeau's psyche was sitting on the edge of her bed, leaning over her, watching her with a fond expression on his face. Occasionally, he would cast a fearful glance over his shoulder to where Logan's bed was located. Then, he would be distracted by a sound she made, and all of his attention would once again be on her. He leaned over to whisper something soothing into her ear, stroking her striped bangs away from her beautiful face.<p>

In her sleep, Rogue smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Remy's... kinda in this chapter! *smiles evilly* I've never gotten to hold the entrance of Remy LeBeau up in the air and tell people to jump for it before... it's kind of freeing, actually. **

_**Y' teasin'.**_

_**'Course she is, luv. Wouldn't you?**_

_***snorts* Non. Indy'd have given dem de dang Cajun already.**_

_**No ya wouldn'. Oi mean, yeah, if this was moindless fluff or something... but this story has a plot, albeit a thin one, an' ya wouldn' go an mess that up for some instant Romy gratification, would ya, luv?**_

_***snorts again***_

**Which means that for once, Indy conceeds the point.**

**Next Chapter: Some people really are just that hyper, and these conversations just keep getting better and better. And longer and longer.**


	13. Chapter 12: The Headaches

**Disclaimer: You see, Doctor, Stan thinks I'm only with him because I want the rights to X-Men: Evolution, which is, of course ridiculous. I love my Stan-ly Poo!**

**A/N: To PyrusAngel, because her reviews always seem to come when I really need them.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 12: The Headaches<p>

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

St. John Allerdyce was what most people would refer to as clinically unstable. This was true, and it was no secret to anybody.

But what most people didn't know, was that St. John Allerdyce was an incredibly intelligent young man, whose brief fits of insanity only vaguely overcame his genius.

And, he was just plain devious.

He's-insane-so-he-can't-help-it had gotten him out of plenty of situations before, most of them involving Magneto's temper. Now, he was using his "insanity" to drive Scooter and Ariel up the mansion walls.

"Pyro!" Scott yelled, chasing the Aussie across the foyer.

"Scott, don't let him get away!" Jean shrieked as she followed on his heels.

Logan's head turned as he crossed the tiled floor in the entryway of the mansion, tracking the slightly crazed sounding telepath as she scrambled after the two boys. He shook his head and turned back to the pressing matter at hand.

"Nosy? Can ya hear me?"

"Loud and clear, General!" Betsy's voice seemed to come through the walls.

"Alright then," he growled. "Wade? Are you patched in? Wade?"

"DIE, YOU MALIGNANT, FLEA-RIDDEN FELINE!"

"I guess that answers that," Logan muttered, striding off to find the Professor.

* * *

><p>Jean and Scott peered around the corner hesitantly, unsure of whether they really wanted to catch the man they were chasing. When they saw no one, they each relaxed a little bit and stepped around the wall.<p>

And were promptly spattered with paint. With a high-pitched giggle, John was away again, with the two furious mutants on his heels.

* * *

><p>Charles Xavier could only recall four times in his entire life that he had had a headache, barring unusual circumstances. They had ranged from excruciating to annoying, and were generally due to some sort of illness. This one was rather unmentionable as far as history goes, but he was pretty sure the cause of it was more memorable. Still, as Jean and Scott chased the young Australian around the mansion, he felt the pain ebbing, and knew it wouldn't be long before it disappeared entirely.<p>

* * *

><p>"So, Rogue is… where now?"<p>

"Mississippi, still. That is one long state to drive through."

"Gosh, I'm hungry."

"Wade, sweetie, do you think you could pay attention for just a few minutes?"

"But I'm hungry! And there aren't any chimichangas in this dude's apartment."

"What dude?"

"Uhhh…. Can't hear ya, Jimmy, you're breaking up!"

"Deadpool…"

* * *

><p>St. John arrived in the living room breathless and laughing. Wanda looked up from her book and took in the sight with a look that was half amused and half admiring.<p>

"What are you up to?" she asked, closing her book. He grinned.

"Me? Why, nothin', luv, nothin' at all."

Jean and Scott proved him a liar two seconds later when they crashed as one into the room and stopped short.

"Aha!" Scott cheered. "We've got you now!"

Jean just grinned in a sort of crazed glee. Wanda raised an eyebrow.

"Johnny… what have you done?"

He just shrugged. "They've been chasin' me all day."

"And we're going to put a stop to your insane fire-setting!" Jean cried, raising her hand and trying to fling him onto to couch telepathically. A spark of blue shot from Wanda's quickly outstretched hand, and she was yelping, and shaking out her wrist.

"OW! Wanda!"

The Scarlet Witch raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Trying not to scream in frustration, Scott said calmly, "Okay, John, hand over the lighter."

John started laughing, then stopped. "Oh. You were serious."

"Darn right, I'm serious!" Scott shouted. "Give me the lighter!"

"No!" John shouted back.

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Pyro, either give him the lighter, or I'm calling the Professor!" Jean screamed.

"Call him!" John said wildly. "See if I care!"

"Fine then!" _Profess-_"OW!"

Jean clutched her skull, wincing. "My… head."

Scott suddenly frowned and shook his own head. "Ow. Oh, man, instant headache."

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow."

"Oooh, oh, dang it."

The couple gave each other pitiful looks and glared balefully at Pyro and Wanda. "This is your fault," Jean seethed in the Aussie's direction, eyes screwed shut and hands massaging her temples. He shrugged. "Not quite my style, but hey, if you wanna give me credit…"

"AGH! That's IT!"

Scott dove for the orange-haired pyromaniac, nearly exploding when he grasped only air. John was already gone.

Dragging his moaning girlfriend to her feet, Scott renewed his pursuit, albeit more painfully than before.

Left alone in the living room, Wanda threw back her head and laughed.

* * *

><p>"Wade, for the last time, no, you cannot come to the mansion."<p>

"But I wanna meet all the kiddies! They sound so… short. And like they _really _need lives."

"They have lives," Logan growled, feeling a headache coming on. Betsy put her two cents in.

"Yeah, but Logan, sweetie, they don't seem like very… _exciting_ lives."

Aghast, Logan glared at the ceiling. "WHAT? Not… were you two completely out of it for the Apocalypse thing? They saved the entire, freakin' world!"

"Actually," Wade said matter-of-factly. "_Rogue _saved the entire freakin' world. The rest of you guys just kinda… stood around and looked like your Spandex was too tight."

"I don't wear Spandex," Logan snarled.

"Bet that kid with the shades does," Wade snickered.

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing his head would explode if Wade was allowed to keep it up. "Look, did you two actually want to talk about Rogue, or did you just want to annoy the crap out of me?"

"I want to hear about Rogue!"

"I want to annoy the crap out of you."

He heard Betsy sigh. "At least you're honest, sweetie."

* * *

><p>Charles smiled in satisfaction as his headache finally dissolved entirely and straightened from his half hunched over position in his chair. With a rejuvenated purpose, he wheeled himself from his study.<p>

Making his way to the Cerebro chamber, he passed the security and wheeled into the room and down the aisle. Accessing the computer was a matter of only seconds, and before long, he was honing in on a certain southerner, somewhere in Mississippi.

A few minutes later, he logged out of the system and pushed his wheelchair down the hall and out of the room. He made his way into the main hallways, and carefully sent out a telepathic message to anyone in the building. _Everyone, I have news of Rogue. Please assemble in the living room if you wish to hear it._

The scene he came upon was unexpected to say the least.

Jean and Scott lay at opposite ends of the couch, their legs tangled together, and cold compresses on both of their foreheads. They were both moaning and feebly glaring at the rather too innocent looking Australian perched on the edge of Wanda's armchair. Kurt and Kitty were pointedly on the other side of the room from Lance and Pietro, and Fred and Toad were leaning on one of the walls. Storm hovered over the two mutants on the couch, while Logan seemed to be having a conversation with the wall.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat. They all looked at him. "I have Rogue's latest whereabouts."

"SHH! Shut up, Wilson, Chuck is givin' us information on Rogue."

Raising an eyebrow at Logan's interruption, he nevertheless moved on. "Ah, yes, Wade is it? And Betsy, good to hear from you again. Logan informed me that you two met Rogue on her journey."

"Yes, Professor, she spent the night with me."

"An' I had lunch with her. Gotta tell ya, that girl is sweet, but she ain't got any idea of how to deal with ninjas-"

"WADE!"

"Sorry, Jimmy."

_Jimmy?_

_Leave it be, Chuck_.

Deciding to stay away from the snarling wolverine waiting in that line of questioning, Xavier finished his original thought. "Rogue is in Mississippi. Still. She's perfectly fine, and appears to be having no trouble. As far as I could see from her thoughts, her spirits are up, and she is still eagerly pursuing Remy."

Wanda snorted. "What else would she be doing?"

John grinned. "Atta girl. Go get him, sheila."

Charles shifted a little in his chair, slightly uncomfortable with the knowing looks the two were exchanging, especially accompanied by the thoughts John wasn't bothering to shield. Thank you, he was aware that Miss Maximoff was a lovely young lady, he didn't need rapturous details that would put a romance author to shame.

* * *

><p>Jean moaned dramatically from her place on the couch. "Scott, my head, it aches so!"<p>

He groaned in reply, "I know, Jean! Don't I know!"

She pouted a little bit. "Will you massage my head?"

He tried to reach for her, but his arm wasn't long enough. "Jean… I can't."

She tried to kick him. "Scott!"

He half-heartedly kicked at her. "Jean!"

His raised voice caused them both to yelp again.

* * *

><p>"Still in Mississippi? How long is that state anyway?"<p>

"Lo-ong."

"Ugh, tell me about it. I had to catch this guy once so I could cut his heart out and eat it in front of Fury, an'-"

"Wade, I just ate."

"Sorry, baby. Anyhoo, it took me three days to drive through. Three days!"

"Shocking," Logan muttered. "Especially with your attention span. I'm surprised it only took three days."

* * *

><p>Tony glanced up when the bell rang, shaking his head at his own silliness. She wouldn't be back yet, she'd only left a couple days ago. Still, he couldn't help but watch the door, waiting for the stripe-haired Mississippi Queen to come striding in, leather boots stalking, Cajun Charmer with red and black eyes in tow.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter was the hardest to write. Ever. I deleted it three times. And it still bugs me a little.**

**Ash and Indy are still sulking about me leaving them for a week and refuse to comment.**

**Next Chapter: Mornings are evil when there's no coffee, and riding a motorcycle in the rain isn't as fun as it sounds.**


	14. Chapter 13: The Rant

**Disclaimer: Thank you, Doctor. Stan, you see, honey, even if you never give me the rights to X-Men: Evolution, I'm still going to love you. Always.**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to ElvenMuggle, because sometimes I think your Rogue gets together with my Rogue and they plot my downfall.**

**I am so, so sorry that this is coming so late. I could give you reasons about being kidnapped by my mother and siblings and taken shopping and on appointments all day, but I doubt anyone is actually interested in my pathetic excuses, so I'll just write instead. Once again, so sorry.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 13: The Rant<p>

* * *

><p>Highway 42, Mississippi<p>

It. Was. Raining.

Rogue gritted her teeth and took deep breaths. It wasn't anyone's fault that she was riding a motorcycle and it happened to rain. It wasn't anyone's fault that the coffee machine in her motel room was broken. No one's fault at all.

That didn't stop her from wishing she could borrow Wanda's mutation and hex them all to kingdom come. Especially that dratted coffee pot, and the jerks who had the room before her and didn't tell management it was broken.

The rain slicked her helmet and beat on her jacket. Her boots kept slipping off the things on the motorcycle that she couldn't remember the name of that you put your feet on. She struggled with the bike, trying to keep it steady on the rain-slicked road. She swerved to avoid a mini-van with the same problem and decided enough was enough.

"That's IT!" Pulling over, she waited on the shoulder, letting car after car pass her by, and determined not to move until the rain stopped.

She was just getting ready to say to heck with the whole thing and just _go_ when a huge truck barreled down the highway towards her and passed by, partially obscured by the five foot wall of water it produced.

Rogue sat very still. And then she exploded.

_"Roches, Je déteste ce voyage sanglant!"_

"It would be raining, _right _now, wouldn't it? It ain't enough that mah motel didn't have _any _coffee in the _entire flippin' building,_ but now Ah have to suffer through a bazillion hour drive _soaking wet _and cold!" She glared at the sky. "Someone up there hates me."

She sat there quietly for only a minute before she gave up and went on with her venting, this time on her favorite subject: Remy.

"You are so _stupid_, ya know that? Honestly, with all mah issues, Ah'd think you knew better than to _abandon _me! You're an insufferable, lying, thieving idiot, an' sometimes Ah really, really can't stand you. Ah cannot believe that after all this time of tellin' me ya love me, an' promisin' that mah skin problems don't matter to ya, you would just GIVE UP! No one likes a quitter, Cajun! Nobody!"

Aware that anybody who happened to see her on the side of the road would probably call the highway patrol and inform them that a crazy person was causing a disturbance, Rogue nevertheless carried on with her rant.

"Why do Ah have to be so… emotionally stunted? Ah mean, okay, not stunted exactly, 'cause He-lo Emotions! But Ah'm all…" she gestured to herself. "Weird an' stuff. Ah couldn't even keep the guy who wouldn't go away around for too long 'cause Ah can't _express_ mahself! What exactly is so hard about tellin' the man you love him, Rogue? Huh?"

She shook her head at her own folly and then took a deep breath before starting in on him again.

"Ah have never met a more irritating man. Ah swear, sometimes, Ah think he only acts like that because he knows it's annoyin' me. Ah've certainly never heard anyone else complain about him. It's all 'Remy's so sweet, such a charmer, oh Rogue, you shouldn't be so hard on him.' HA! If they _only _knew. That Swamp Rat may be a charmer, an' he may be sweet, but he's a Cajun first an' foremost, an' Mama always said not to trust Cajuns."

Nodding her head viciously to punctuate this slightly unethical statement, as well as to shake from her mind the fact that Mystique's code of ethics was perhaps not the best one to emulate, she continued.

"An' Mama, just 'cause Ah'm quotin' you, don't get to thinkin' this means Ah like ya or anything. In fact, Ah think you're worse than the Swamp Rat, an' that's sayin' somethin'. You've pretty much screwed up both Kurt an' me to tha point where Ah ain't even sure we're really fit to be in society, an' you've given Logan an' the Brotherhood a complex from poppin' in all the time an' being so dang mean! Not to mention whatever damage you did to poor Sabertooth." She shuddered. Then she whimpered suddenly and fell forward a little, resting her head on her arms.

"Remy," she moaned. "Joss, Ah miss you so much. An' that's incredibly stupid, 'cause Lord knows what Ah would've done if you actually _had_ left me alone when Ah asked (read: demanded, threatened) you to. Ah'd a been goin' to pieces at the _Institute, _an' that would _not _have been good. But… why did you have to go at all? Joss, why is my life so screwed up? Why do mah powers have to be so unhelpful and uncontrollable, leading to me having unbelievable issues with relationships, including with mah mother, who is insanely _un-_helpful in that regard? _Why _did the man who loves me have to be an' irritatin', aggravatin', exasperatin', abso-bloody-lutely gorgeous Cajun _moron_? An' why in heaven's name are there no coffee houses on This. Entire. Highway? Ah am being forced into riding a motorcycle in the rain, chasing after a wayward lover-an' Ah can't _believe _Ah jus' said that-while slowly havin' mah clothes fall apart due to the constant wear of riding said motorcycle. Mah boots are gettin' dirty, mah jacket is gettin' creased. So _WHY _is it soooo unexpected an' waaaay too much to ask that Ah get a cup of coffee to get me through the freakin' day?"

Exhausted from her rant and oddly feeling much better, Rogue lifted her head. It was still raining. She said something impolite in German.

"Ah hate rain. Why is it raining? This cross-country trip was icky enough without adding gallons of water to the equation. All rain does is make stuff wet, an' since we ain't in a dry spell or nothin', nobody actually wants it to rain! Especially when we're riding motorcycles down Highway 42 in the middle of Mississippi. Speakin' of Mississippi, how long is this state, exactly? Ah've been drivin' through it for two days now! Ah _lived _here an' Ah never knew it was this long!"

Her rant coming to a slow stop, the rain coming to a slower stop, and the car coming to a complete stop beside her snapped Rogue out of her pity party and back into the real world, in which she was a strong, independent woman who knew exactly how to handle this situation.

She gunned her engine and was back on the road within seconds, speeding away from the startled, concerned citizen and back on her way to Remy.

Rogue knew that logically, nothing that had happened so far was anybody's fault.

Except Remy. She would forever maintain that the entire road trip was completely, totally, and inexcusably his fault.

She was right.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That bit about her mother sounded rather parody-ish, non? *shrugs***

**French Translation: Rocks! I hate this bloody trip!**

** I am quite fond of ranting!Rogue methinks... she's kinda funny. :)**

_**Indy t'inks y' like t' torture her.**_

**That is a completely unfair statement, Indy darling. And Ash, honey, what are you glaring at?**

_**Don' think that callin' us "honey" an' "darlin'" is gettin' you off tha hook for leavin' us for an entoire week.**_

**Technically, since you live in my head, I didn't leave you. If anyone should be mad in this little writing quadrangle-shape-thing, it should be Wisdom. He's the one who got left here all by himself with only the notebooks for company. Don't get me wrong, I love them to margins, but my goodness, they're dull conversationalists.**

_**"..."**_

_**Oi 'ave no oidea what she jus' said. You, luv?**_

_**Non. **_

**Oh, you two. *waves hands vaguely***

**Next Chaper: For the sake of our friends, we'll call it a draw, for the sake of our sanity, her word is law. That whole pesky state is behind us at last, and for the love of fried chicken, don't risk her wrath.**


	15. Chapter 14: The Lull

**Disclaimer: Girls, stop pestering me. For the last time, Stan and I are perfectly fine. In fact, as a show of good faith, he even offered to consider giving me the rights to X-Men: Evolution as a birthday present! So you see, you have nothing to worry about!**

**A/N: To tradingtruthsforlies, because of the first review I ever received from her. ;)**

* * *

><p>Chapter 14: The Lull<p>

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Bayville, New York<p>

"I hate you, Lance Alvers!"

"I hate you more, Kitty Pryde!"

Kurt and Pietro exchanged irritated looks, indicating that their aggravation eclipsed their current state of competitive loathing for each other. Lance and Kitty had been arguing since eight o'clock this morning, when Kitty had fallen through the ceiling as was her custom… right into Lance's lap. There was sputtering, there was blushing, and then there was smirking, and next thing anyone knew, there was yelling, shrieking, and mangled German cuss words flying through the air.

Getting bored quickly, Pietro turned back to Kurt and said, "The front porch… GO!"

WHOOSH!

Kurt ignored him and went to pop popcorn.

* * *

><p>Jean and Scott, miraculously cured of their respective headaches after only a few hours rest, were back on Aussie-watching duty. They took it very seriously.<p>

Currently, they were watching St. John happily playing a game of Rummy with himself. He was talking and laughing, adding commentary and statistics to every move. It was a bit disconcerting to watch him have an animated conversation with no one, but compared to the list of other things he could've been doing, the couple was just about ready to provide him with imaginary friends via telepathy if he'd keep doing what he was doing- not destroying the mansion.

"How long do you think it'll last?" Scott whispered to his girlfriend. Jean abruptly whipped her head around to pierce him with an icy glare.

"Scott! You can't ask that! Now he'll-"

"BURNNNNNNN!" John cut her off with a screech of pure joy mixed with something else that they couldn't quite place, jumped to his feet brandishing his lighter, complete with a column of flame suddenly reaching out to snap at them, and ran off.

Jean turned an annoyed look on her boyfriend. "Now look what you've done."

* * *

><p>"Hey! Blue boy! I beat you!"<p>

Kurt turned his head and fixed the other mutant with a fangy grin. "Nein. I did not race, you did not beat me."

Pietro shook his head impatiently. "Then let's race, man. I know I can beat you."

Kurt shrugged. "Nah. I am vatching zhe show." He gestured to Kitty and Lance, who were still fighting.

Pietro gave him an incredulous look. "You'd rather listen to the lovebirds fight than race me?"

Kurt pretended to think. "Ja."

The silver-haired boy shook his head. "That's messed up."

* * *

><p>"Lance, you're a pig-headed, disgusting, unhygienic, icky… icky thing!"<p>

"Yeah? Well you're a snobby little flat-chested dork!"

She gasped. "Take that back!"

He got into her face. "No!"

"Take it back!" She shoved him out of her face.

"Never!" He shoved her back.

"You-" she started to lunge for him, only to be caught round the waist by Storm, who had arrived in time to hear the last bit.

"Kitty, we do not do violence to our guests," she scolded gently. Kitty gaped.

"But he-"

"It doesn't matter," Ororo said firmly. "If Lance chooses not to be a gentleman, that's his prerogative. Still," and here she looked at them both sternly. "If you two could find it in yourselves to make peace? For Rogue?" She released Kitty and then walked away, saying, "If you'll excuse me, I need to go check on Jean and Scott."

Kitty and Lance avoided each other's eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath and stuck out his hand. She eyed it warily for a second, then hesitantly shook it. "For Rogue," she said, meeting his eyes shyly. He nodded.

"For Rogue."

* * *

><p>Scott was completely exhausted. The Aussie had been going all day long, without stopping for food or rest. The man couldn't understand it.<p>

"How… is he… still running… after all this… time?" he gasped to Jean as they chased Pyro through the halls of the Institute.

"Not… a clue…" she panted back, trying to get a read on his thoughts so as to be able to tell where he was going next, but coming up empty. "Funny, he seems to know his way around the mansion pretty well…"

* * *

><p>The Mississippi River, Mississippi Side<p>

Rogue stopped just before driving onto the bridge and breathed her last breath of Mississippi air. Home hadn't been especially compelling this time around. Probably because she was missing Remy too much to properly visit. She'd have to fix that on her way back.

Back. She was so close to Remy she could practically taste him. Louisiana was only a bridge away.

Or a ferry ride…

Shaking her head clear of that thought, Rogue let the bike nudge forward, lifting her leather booted feet from the road.

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

"Race me."

"…"

"Race me."

"…"

"Come on, Blue boy! Either face me or race me. Don't just walk away from me, 'cause we all know who walks faster!"

Kurt stopped and turned to Pietro. The other boy crossed his arms over his chest. "Come on, Kitty and Lance aren't fighting anymore, so either you're scared, or you're… scared."

Kurt flashed him some fang. "Not scared. Bored. You, my impatient friend, are boring me."

BAMPH.

Pietro could only stand in shock, slowly shaking away the sulfur smell and gaping at the audacity of the other mutant.

* * *

><p>Scott followed in unabashed shock as John led them in a twisted game of follow-the-leader through the mansion. How he could possibly have that much energy was completely beyond Scott's comprehension.<p>

The Aussie made a right, and took off down the stairs. Scowling, Jean and Scott followed him.

John burst into the living room laughing so hard he could barely breathe, with Jean and Scott hard on his heels. Wanda looked up from her place in the armchair, exactly the same one she'd been in the day before, and raised an eyebrow.

"Having fun?"

John nodded happily. "Uh-huh. They're lots of fun to play with." He tossed a cheery smile over his shoulder at the two X-Men, who were torn between catching their breath and glaring at him.

Wanda smirked. "They look a little tired, Johnny."

He gave them a careless once over. "They're resilient."

Amused, she turned to them. "What's he done?"

Scott pointed. "That… nutcase! He's been running all over the mansion all day, set fire to three different pieces of furniture, and caused more havoc in the kitchen than I would've thought possible."

Wanda looked at the grinning Aussie. "That's it?"

He shrugged and yawned suddenly. Jean gave him an incredulous look.

"Oh, that's rich! _Now _he's tired?"

Wanda just grinned. "C'mon, John. I think you need a nap."

Blinking somewhat owlishly at her, he simply nodded and allowed her to take him gently by the hand. Jean and Scott watched with open mouths as the Scarlet Witch led the pyro by the hand and out of the room. They followed the pair through the mansion and to the guest wing, where the boys had been sleeping. Wanda gently pushed him into a sitting position on the bed of a single room. John's eyes were barely open as she pulled his boots off and carefully took the lighter from his hand and pocketed it. He let her lay him on his back and cover him with the blanket.

Wanda smiled fondly at the already mostly asleep young man and couldn't resist bending down to brush a kiss over his forehead. She smoothed the orange hair from his face and straightened. She walked to the door and left the room, only to find Jean and Scott waiting just outside. They stared at her in shock.

"What?" she asked, irritated. Scott swallowed.

"Nothing."

* * *

><p>The Mississippi River, Louisiana Side<p>

Rogue breathed a sigh of relief as she crossed the last physical boundary separating her from Remy. She was in Louisiana, only hours from New Orleans. She'd given up hope of catching him before he reached home days and days ago, but the closer she got to the Big Easy, the lighter her heart seemed to be. Her head felt kinda heavy though. Almost like there was something besides her and her psyches in her brain…

Oh.

_Hi, Professor._

_Ah, hello, Rogue. Glad I could get your attention._

_No problem. What's up?_

She heard him mentally clear his throat, and imagined him folding his hands under his chin. _I believe I have an exact reading on Remy's whereabouts, and I thought you might like to- what is that infernal-stop! Stop that this instant. Goodness, children!_

_Uh, Professor?_

_Yes, Rogue. As I was saying, I know the precise-Jamie, what is it now?_

Rogue listened with growing impatience as Xavier dealt with the newest interruption. When he was finally finished, he said, _What was I saying?_

She sighed. _Somethin' 'bout Remy's exact location?_

_Ah yes, _he paused again. _Would you please excuse me, Rogue? It's suddenly become very quiet, and I'm rather afraid of what that means._

She sighed again, scrunching the bridge of her nose. _Ah guess so._

_Thank you. _He didn't bother to sever the connection, so Rogue got to hear all the squeaks his chair made as he wheeled out of his study and down the halls.

"_Jean? Scott? It's suddenly very quiet. I do hope you didn't injure Mr. Allerdyce in any way."_

"_Professor, he's asleep."_

"_Really?" _he sounded surprised. _"He seemed rather… wound up."_

"_Wanda put him to bed." _Jean sounded disgruntled. Rogue had to snicker, despite her growing annoyance.

"_Oh,"_ Xavier said. _"Well then, carry on."_

_Rogue?_

_Yes. Professor? _She bit out sharply.

_What was I telling you?_

_Remy. Exact whereabouts. _

_Oh, oh yes, quite. Well, I was tracing him through Cerebro and- what now?_

Rogue had had it.

_Whoever it is, tell them that whatever their problem is, it can wait, unlike me, who will only tolerate this entire situation for a few more seconds. Ah don't actually _need _to know Remy's exact location, ya know._

_Ah, yes, um. _He seemed taken aback. _Remy is exactly thirty-two miles ahead of your current location. _

_Thank you. Ah am goin' to cut this connection now. If you've got anything else to say, say it next time. _She severed the link and returned her full attention to the highway.

Honestly. Telepaths.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I have nothing to say, except that I hate school shopping, which has nothing to do with the chapter. I do however, love the notebooks and pens I got. :)**

_**She does love her pens.**_

_**Yeah, an' tha notebooks. Despoite their boring personalities.**_

**Don't you two have something to say to each other?**

_**...Indy's sorry she tossed y' t'rough a wall, Ashy.**_

_***sigh* An' Oi'm sorry Oi called ya a silly Cajun sheila with seventeen oyes an' a pack o' woild mongooses in yer hair.**_

**...**

**Okay then! Everyone's good now! **

**Next Chapter: When in doubt, ask the locals.**


	16. Chapter 15: The Saloon

**Disclaimer: Stan, darling, I'm feeling a bit out of sorts. The girls were all very concerned about us, and quite frankly, though they meant well, I found it a little bit offensive. We aren't having problems are we, chere? The whole issue of the rights to X-Men: Evolution is just a petty disagreement, certainly nothing to be worried about.**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to aecul, for always being a reader and supporter, even unto my wacky brain.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 15: The Saloon<p>

* * *

><p>Somewhere, Louisiana<p>

Rogue stepped off of the motorcycle and looked around. The heat was oppressive, and with her newfound control, she had abandoned her jacket and traded her gloves for fingerless motorcycle sheaths. All around her, the inhabitants of the small town were talking, lounging, laughing, shopping. A few of them waved, and Rogue grinned and waved back.

Making her way to the nearest restaurant, which actually seemed to be mirroring an old western saloon, she walked inside in her leather boots and stalked to the bar.

Sitting down, she ordered an iced tea and then picked up the paper menu, not really hungry but knowing she should eat.

The bartender, a pleasant faced woman in her forties came over with the tea. "Here ya go, chil'." She studied Rogue's face. "Honey, dere be somet'in' in ya eyes dat don' sit well with me. Ya wanna tell Sissy 'bout it?"

Rogue gave her a tired smile. "Sissy?"

The woman thumped her chest softly. "Dat be me. Go on, ya can tell me."

The girl shrugged. "Why not? Ah think Ah've told jus' 'bout every single person Ah've met on this trip the whole story." With that, she launched into the now familiar and well-versed tale of Remy, her mutation, Remy, the note, Remy, the decision to come after Remy, Betsy, the corn, the chickens, Remy, Wade, Patrick Jane, Remy, and her boots. For some reason, she felt an odd compulsion to talk a lot about her boots. And Remy. But then, she always talked a lot about Remy.

Sissy listened to all of it in silence, and it was only after Rogue finally stopped talking that she realized she was surrounded by men, big and small, who had all been listening with the older woman. Rogue waved nervously. "Hello."

One of the men, a young fellow with blond hair grinned at her. "Hey, miss, how 'bout I go ask 'round, see if anybody saw dis Cajun o' yours?"

She smiled at him gratefully. "Would you? Ah jus'… Ah jus' wanna sit here for a minute."

He stood up and tipped his hat. "Sure thing, girl."

Rogue settled back on her stool, watching Sissy thoughtfully filly glasses and fetching plates. Just when she was sure she wasn't going to get any more comfortable, the woman spoke.

"So, tell me more 'bout dis Remy."

Startled, Rogue replied, "More? Ya wanna hear more about him? Lord, Ah jus' wore him out a few minutes ago!"

Sissy clucked her tongue. "Naw. Girl, ya don' ever get tired o' talkin' 'bout de man ya love, dat be one thing I know. 'Sides, ya only tol' me 'bout all de stupid stuff he does, an' how mad ya are at him. Ya haven't told me yet why ya bothered chasin' him all de way across the map in de firs' place!"

Rogue looked at her. Sissy turned to face her, black eyes sparkling in her tanned face. "So tell me, girl," she said, leaning close to Rogue. "Tell Sissy all 'bout your Cajun."

Rogue stared at her, then slowly nodded. "Well," she said, taking a drink. "Okay. The first time Ah met Remy, he tried to blow mah hand off…"

On and on she talked, ignoring the guffaws and catcalls from the men when she spoke of some of the stunts Remy had pulled. She told Sissy, blushing, about his gorgeous eyes and his handsome face, his toned body and strong arms. She told them about his powers, and his smirk, and his thieving nature. Her voice broke when she told them about how he understood her, and knew her. She smiled as she informed them that he loved her, and that she loved him. She shook her head in affectionate exasperation as she told them about that trench coat of his, and the cards, and the bo staff.

Sissy watched knowingly as her emotions played across her face. Dreamy, adoring, loving, exasperated, irritated, wistful, playful, all of them caused by one man. She smiled knowingly at the love-struck girl and clucked softly. Silly boy. Unobservant, like all men, of what truly mattered. The best thief in the world, the child claimed, but he couldn't tell that he'd stolen her heart? Tch. Men.

Rogue, exhausted at last, sat limply, drinking her iced tea, which had been refilled several times over the course of her tale. Around her, men drank, ate, talked, laughed, and generally made for a soothing background noise. She found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.

* * *

><p>In the back of her mind, Rogue's psyches sat at a bar in a Louisiana saloon and sipped their drinks. Logan had some sort of grog that even Remy refused to touch. Instead, the Cajun was swigging a bottle of something the rest couldn't identify. Jean and Scott had primly chosen water, but Kitty had been adventurous and snagged a bottle of homemade sassafras soda. Jane was drinking tea.<p>

Kitty sighed. "Rogue is so… Remy did you hear all that?" She glanced to her left where Remy was perched on a stool, leaning his elbows on the bar. "Remy?" she said. "Did you hear?"

"Remy heard, chaton," he said distractedly, all of his attention focused on Rogue. The Valley Girl smiled at him, knowing that he wouldn't be joining into the conversation properly for a long time.

* * *

><p>Rogue was just considering actually ordering something to eat when the hat tippin' man from earlier came running back in.<p>

"Miss Rogue," he said breathlessly. "The lady down at the gas station said that a fella in a trench coat with devil eyes lifted a pack of cigarettes while he was paying for his gas."

Rogue sat straight up. "How long ago?"

He grinned. "Not five hours, miss."

Knowing that a silly grin was spreading across her face, Rogue leaped to her feet, slapped some money on the bar, tossed the hat tipper a grateful wink, and was out the door in the next minute. The saloon patrons listened, and soon heard the roar of the motorcycle as the Southern Belle with the stripes in her hair took off after the wayward Cajun with the devil in his eyes and her heart in his hands.

* * *

><p>Sissy came out of the back and stopped short as she realized Rogue was gone. But Tom was back, and so she reckoned he'd had news of that Remy fella.<p>

"She gone then?" she asked casually. Tom chuckled.

"Tore outa here like the devil himself was chasin' her. Only I guess it be de other way 'round."

Sissy smiled and shook her head. "Godspeed young'un," she murmured softly, glancing out the window in the direction the young woman had taken.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I really enjoyed playing around with the whole "devil eyes" thing. **

_**Oi missed Remy talkin'. Oi really loike that accent.**_

**...**

**I wonder why. **

_***Indy glances over, barely pausing in her Cajun-accented conversation with Tante Mattie***_

**Next Chapter: Is she there yet? Whattaya mean, you can't tell? Lemme see that phone… no, Lisbon, this is important. Don't make me come over there…**


	17. Chapter 16: The Eavesdropping

**Disclaimer: Oh, Stan, I just can't take it anymore! The stress, the anxiety, the lack of rights to X-Men: Evolution, and all the coffee being wasted! I'm sorry, but… I have to take a nap.**

**A/N: To Euregatto, 'cause of random pairings that shouldn't make sense but do. **

* * *

><p>Chapter 16: The Eavesdropping<p>

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

Logan couldn't take it any longer.

"SHUT UP!"

The noise, which had been deafening a second ago, instantly quieted. Nobody had any desire to actively cross the Wolverine when he resorted to volume.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared. "That's better."

Jamie raised his hand timidly. "Mister Logan, sir. Can I go to the bathroom?"

The man pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Jamie, go." The young boy hopped out of his chair and fled. Logan turned his scowl on the remaining mutants. "Anyone else?"

There were various mutters to the negative. Smiling a grim smile, the scary little man continued.

"Introductions." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the row of monitors set up on the table that had been added to the circle of chairs. A face was present on each of the screens. "Over here we have Wade Wilson, also known as Deadpool, and known to respond to 'The Merc with the Mouth.' Beside him is Betsy Braddock, his girlfriend, also known as Psylocke. And last and most certainly least, we have Patrick Jane, some random guy Rogue met in Mississippi, also known as 'A Pain in the Butt,' or at least that's what his _charming _CBI agent girlfriend told me when he called and asked to be kept aware of the proceedings."

"I'm not his girlfriend!" a voice squawked from Jane's monitor. He grinned. "Oh, Lisbon. Your denial is very amusing. Reminds me rather of our Southern friends. Do you suppose I too should take off for New Orleans, just to complete the tradition?"

"Don't. You. Dare."

He smirked.

"Okay, whatever," Logan growled. "Does anybody have any questions as to why we're here?"

Nobody moved. He grinned a pointed-toothed grin. "Good. That way, I can stop all this showman crap and turn this over to Chuck." He promptly sat down.

Charles wheeled forward and smiled benignly at all assembled, folding his hands beneath his chin. "Good evening, everyone. We're all here for one reason. Rogue. She's a very special girl, and a friend to all of us."

"Not me," Lisbon grumbled. Jane shushed her.

"Ahem," Charles cleared his throat. "Currently, Rogue is in Louisiana, actively on her way to New Orleans. She should arrive merely hours after our Cajun friend."

They stared at him blankly. Finally, Wanda said, "Ooookayyyy."

Lance said it best. "Why are you telling us, Professor?"

"Much as it pains me to do so, I agree with Lance," Kitty said, with a sideways glance at aforementioned earth-shaker. "Like, what does it matter? Until she reaches him, aren't we pretty much like, just sitting here waiting?"

Xavier smiled. "Ah. And here we are. True, we could be waiting for quite some time, but, since Rogue has kindly allowed me temporary access to her mind whenever I want it, I am quite capable of following her mentally on the astro-plane."

They sat in silence for a minute. Then, Scott said, "What does that mean, Professor?"

St. John snorted from his position on the arm of Wanda's armchair. "It means he's gonna pop inta Roguey's mind, hang out there 'till she gets Rems, an' basically let us eavesdrop on the entire thing, via his worshipful self."

They all stared at him in shock. Wanda looked smug. Scott's mouth dropped open.

Amused, Xavier said, "Thank you, Mr. Allerdyce."

Shrugging, he flicked his lighter open. "Don' mention it."

* * *

><p>An hour later, the youngest X-Men were bored stiff and most of them were requesting permission to go do other things. As Jubilee put it, "Remy and Rogue have been dancing around this for over a year now, and quite frankly, all the waiting for something to happen has made me a little disillusioned in the grand scheme of the Southern love story. Call us when she catches him." And with that, Tabby, Amara, and Jubilee made a break for the door. Bobby, Ray, and Sam's exit was slightly less excused, but nobody really minded, seeing as how they hadn't been paying attention anyway.<p>

Only Jean, Scott, Kitty, Kurt, and the Brotherhood were left, along with the adults, to hear the Professor's updates and listen vicariously to Rogue's inner musings.

"This is fascinating," Jane whispered excitedly to Lisbon. She hummed non-commitedly off-screen.

Wade and Betsy were craning their necks on their respective monitors, trying to see each other, and having what would have been a very odd conversation to anyone listening. It involved Mexican food, katanas, ninjas, squirrels, and something about someone named Bea Arthur.

Logan tuned them all out gleefully. Or at least he tried to.

"Hey! Hey, Uh, Logan! Psst! Over here!"

He sighed. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

"Yeah, Blondie?"

Patrick Jane smirked a little at the nickname. "Uh, yeah. When I was speaking to Rogue, I did notice that she was wearing quite the pair of boots, and she said you're the man to talk to about getting a pair like them."

Logan growled. "Listen, bub, I don't want to know about your issues and tendencies to dress in women's clothing, but-"

"No, no," Jane cut him off. "They're for Lisbon, my…" he grinned. "_Charming _CBI agent girlfriend."

"Whatever," Logan grunted. "I ain't spillin'."

"Please?" Jane wheedled. "If you could see her you'd understand. They'd be _perfect _for her!"

Logan scrubbed a hand down his face. "No."

"Please? Pleeeeeease? Pretty pleeeeeeeeeeeeeasssssse?"

"No."

"You know, you remind me of a friend of mine. Only he actually has less facial expression if that's possible."

"Leave me alone."

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease? Pleeee-"

"Alright already! You're worse than Bobby!"

Smugly, Jane sat back. "I know. But seriously, please do tell me."

Logan sighed. "I made 'em alright? By hand. Made the leather too."

Jane smiled. "Could you-"

"Yeah, yeah," Logan cut him off, waving a hand. "Just tell me her size."

"Seven," he replied without hesitation.

Logan sighed again. "Yeah, okay, I'll make the dang boots."

"Thank you. How much do you want for them?"

"Tell ya what, you do your hypno-whatsit on Speedy over there and give me some peace and quiet, we'll call it square," he answered, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Pietro, who was talking a mile a minute and louder than anyone else in the room. It was like he was afraid nobody was listening.

* * *

><p>"Everyone!" Xavier shouted. Every head in the room turned. Professor Xavier did not shout. Or at least, he never squeak-shouted, which was a more accurate description of the sound he'd just made. "Rogue has entered the outskirts of New Orleans. Oh, and I've just lost contact."<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There was a great deal more of Lisbon in this chapter than was originally planned for this story. Then again, The Mentalist crossover wasn't even **_**in **_**the original plan, so that may be expected.**

_**Indy t'inks y' a bit confusin' wit' y' crossovers.**_

_**Don't be a grump jus' 'cause ya can, luv. She's foine.**_

_***grumbles***_

**Thanks Ash. *looks gratefully at him***

**Next Chapter: Ignore the speed limit, forget about the gators. Just bust down that door, chere, and don't stop for anything.**


	18. Chapter 17: The Ride

**Disclaimer: Ah, Stan. I'm feeling much better after my nap. Yes, darling, as a matter of fact I do have good news. And you'll be so excited, I'm sure you'll decide that giving me the rights to X-Men: Evolution is the right thing to do.**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to scribblesmyname, because she is one of the most amazing author's I've ever read the work of, and I'm honored to have her read my story.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 17: The Ride<p>

* * *

><p>N'awlins, Louisiana<p>

Generally, the bayous of Louisiana weren't places that people rushed _into_. It was much more common for people to come tearing out of them at top-speed, with some variation of screaming or cursing involved. However, Rogue was hardly common, and wasn't feeling particularly charitable. Heaven _help _the gators, the mud, the flies, and any other living or non-living thing that got in her way now.

Hunched over the motorcycle, wind sliding off of her helmet and streamlined leather clothing, she made a fierce sight as she roared down the road into the outskirts of New Orleans. The WELCOME TO NEW ORLEANS sign had apparently gotten knocked down or something, because it certainly wasn't spewing its message of warmth and friendship in her face. This was probably a good thing, because in her current state, Rogue would've run it over.

She entered the city at a speed that was certainly illegal, ignoring the 25 miles per hour sign that graced the street she rode. Her focus was on the French Quarter, and an inexplicable sense of urgency drove her to disregard traffic laws, manners, civilian duty, and a large number of wide-eyed tourists who were 'enjoying' the muggy air of a N'awlins' summer evening.

She had never ridden so fast in her life. Even that time she and Logan had been escaping that little convenience store and she'd taken control of his bike for the first time, she hadn't been going this fast. But now she was a dedicated, committed, desperate, _in love_, bonafide crazy person, and silly little trifles like _speed limits _and _personal safety _were not exactly registering on her radar.

Rogue breathed deeply through her nose, restraining herself from crowing in triumph as she crossed into the French Quarter. Eagerly, she took in as many of the sites as she could at the speed she was going. There was the café Remy had taken her to when they had taken their mini-vacation-_When did Ah stop thinkin' of it as a kidnappin'?-_and where she'd had the best jambalaya she could ever remember eating. There was the pretty little shop that sold Mardi Gras masks all year 'round. And there… there was the alleyway where Remy had told her he was going to go save his father now…

And then she was past them all, shooting into the depths of the Quarter and beyond the lights and the sounds and the smells. Into the bayou, and into the memory of that night.

* * *

><p>"<em>Y' an' me, we could write a book 'bout it."<em>

"_Chere."_

"'_M sorry, chere, but Remy needed y'…"_

"_Chere…"_

"_Leave it be, Pere! Leave _her _be!"_

"_Y' got people watchin' out fo' y', chere."_

_His lucky lady in her hand… his red eyes burning into hers… trench coat disappearing into the fog… Kurt's voice breaking into her reverie…_

_Memories that weren't hers, swarming all over again. Thieves… Assassins… what the heck was a Ripper? A little boy with red and black eyes and the beginnings of what would one day be a devastatingly handsome face and an irresistible charm… someone called "Tante"… another... "Henri"…_

"_Chere…"_

_What he had done, who he had conned, his plan, his reasoning…_

_Betrayal, anger, hurt, acceptance, forgiveness-had she ever had this much fun getting shot at before?_

"_Chere…"_

_The moon shone down on the Blood Moon Bayou as a tall Cajun man and a shorter Southern Belle stood dripping wet on its banks and the X-Men swooped down like a swarm of swamp flies and took charge of the situation…_

_Logan, Ah swear, if you actually hurt him, Ah think Ah might do something violent._

* * *

><p>Rogue snapped out of the memories as she hurtled towards a barely visible path she <em>knew <em>she hadn't known was there. Suspiciously, she sent a glance over to her psyches, who were cheerfully following her on their various modes of transportation into the bayou of her mind. Somehow, she knew Remy LeBeau was smirking at her from beneath his helmet visor. Something warm unfurled in her stomach.

The red and black Harley she'd first seen so long ago sped up to coast beside her on her mental road, its rider giving her the same cocky two-fingered salute that always made her want to kiss him and hit him at the same time. He pulled ahead slightly, now leading the pack, and guiding her way through the Blood Moon Bayou. She followed him without question, allowing him to take over her body slightly, just enough to show her the way. She smiled at him brilliantly. Apparently, he was trying to make up for not talking to her for so long. Logan's talk did some good it seemed.

Outside of her mind, Rogue felt Logan's motorcycle flying along underneath her at what would have been a dangerous speed if she was actually riding in the swamp. On Remy's trail, however, it was simply… unorthodox. And illegal.

Abruptly, she felt the psyches draw back from the forefront of her mind, including Remy, who dropped behind her again with a smirk and a wave. She was on her own now, heading for Remy's ancestral home in the swamp.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rogue glimpsed a bit of something big moving in the shadows that were steadily growing larger as the night grew darker. She ignored the minute flash of panic she felt and resolutely pressed on. She was so close; no way was she letting a little-okay, huge-thing like a gator stop her.

Mud and leaves flew up from under the wheels of the bike as she relentlessly rode through the trees and the swamp. The heat was oppressive, but as fast as she was going, she barely noticed.

Rogue wasn't a reckless driver. Really. Oh, she liked driving fast, and she wasn't shy about taking corners like they were open highway, but as a general rule, she wasn't a reckless driver. And Remy wasn't going anywhere. She would get to his house, get to him, and that would be that: she'd have him.

_So why am Ah drivin' like Sabertooth is on mah tail?_

The mansion was coming up fast, but Rogue still felt no inclination to slow down, or even stop for that matter. It all became clear in that instant: Rogue was mad. Steaming mad. I-just-drove-through-a-swamp-after-riding-a-motorcycle-all-the-way-down-the-East-Coast mad. And she was gonna make sure the whole bayou knew it.

In her mind, the psyches glanced at each other nervously, and then turned to Remy. Their discomfort only grew when they saw his irrepressible, _proud_ smirk.

* * *

><p>Remy LeBeau had been home for a total of three hours. His <em>Tante <em>had clasped him to herself gleefully, alternating scolding him for not writing or calling and exclaiming joyfully over every detail of him. His _pere _and _frère _had been only slightly less affectionate. Henri had hugged him so hard he thought his ribs would break, and Jean-Luc (forgiven many times over for the past) had also wrapped his arms around his son.

Three hours later, the family was standing in the entry hall of the LeBeau mansion, intending to collect Remy's bag, which he'd dropped when _Tante _descended on him.

Henri stooped to scoop up the very slim duffel bag, and turned to his little brother with a raised eyebrow upon finding it all but empty.

"Frere? Y' wanna explain why y' bag don' have any clothes in it?"

Tante gave the young man a look. "Remy? What he be talkin' 'bout, chil'?"

Remy opened his mouth to explain, but shut it again instantly when the roar of a motorcycle was heard from outside.

"What de-" Jean-Luc began.

He was cut off by the motorcycle that burst through the double front doors of the mansion. The family scuttled back quickly to avoid being run over. Everyone began shouting, guards were called, weapons appeared out of nowhere, and as the bike came to a skidding halt, a lithe figure dressed in leather, all the way down to a hot little pair of knee-high, hand-crafted boots, which had miraculously avoided the mud spattered all over the rest of the figure and bike, swung off of the seat, and took off its helmet, revealing a tangled mass of auburn and white curls, and flashing, furious emerald green eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Is it just me, or are the chapters getting shorter? **

**Sorry this is late, but quite frankly, I was so snap busy the past few days, updating completely slipped my mind. Again, sorry.**

**I start school today. Yes, today, it is currently four in the morning in Ohio. So yeah, wish me luck.**

**Indy? Ash?**

**GUYS!**

_**"WHAT?"**_

***Sigh* Do you think you two could refrain from beating the living daylights out of each other until I'm done with the chapter?**

_**Y' are done wit' de chapter.**_

**Don't change the subject!**

**Alroight, foine, we'll stop. Yeesh. Tha whole school thing is really gettin' ta ya, ain't it?**

***rubs temples* You have no idea.**

**Next Chapter: Wait, stop, back up. I'm confused. Who's idea was this?**


	19. Chapter 18: The Setup

**Disclaimer: Yes, Stan, you guessed it. I'm pregnant! Stan? Stan? Well, phooey. He can't sign over the rights to X-Men: Evolution if he's unconscious now can he?**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to blackberryhuntress, because you guessed, way back in the flippin' **_**prologue,**_** you guessed. **

**Also, credit for Rogue's opening line goes to ElvenMuggle and her amazing fic "Remy's Pursuit," which is beyond hilarious. Go read it.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 18: The Set-Up<p>

* * *

><p>New Orleans, Louisiana- The LeBeau Mansion<p>

"Remy LeBeau, you rubber donkey!"

A startled laugh burst from his lips too quickly for him to catch. But he just couldn't help it. _Rogue _was here, and she was all fury and power and gorgeous flushed skin, and Holy Chipoltle, w_here _had she been hiding those boots?

A gloved finger flashed up into his face. "Don't you laugh at me, LeBeau. Do you have _any _idea of what Ah've gone through?"

"Every town on de East Coast?" he said with a cheeky grin. Rogue was not amused.

"This ain't a joke, Cajun. You. Left me!"

This last was shrieked at a volume that made the watching Thieves and various LeBeau family members wince. Remy had the grace to look ashamed.

"Chere…"

She closed her eyes, inwardly reveling in his voice purring out her nickname once more, but outwardly trying to keep her temper. "Don't ya 'chere' me, LeBeau," she snarled, not meaning it at all. "What the heck is wrong with you?"

He looked nonplussed, but something was shimmering in the darkness of his red and black eyes. "Quoi?"

She waved expansively over her head. "You left me, Remy! More specifically, ya left me a _note_, tellin' me ya goin' home, an' that ya know Ah don't love ya!"

"What should Remy have done, Rogue?" he said, frustrated.

"What should ya-" she shrilled. "Ya shouldn'ta been such an idiot! Who the heck do ya think ya are, an' what gives you the right ta say what Ah feel? For your information, Remy LeBeau, because of you, Ah jus' rode Logan's motorcycle four thousand nine-hundred and thirty-four miles from Bayville to New Orleans. Ah have ridden in the rain, Ah have ridden in the mud, Ah have ridden in the blazing sun. Ah met a lunatic, Ah met a hypnotist, an' Ah had to drive by _sixteen _cornfields in one day! Ah am tired, Ah am furious, and ya know what? Ah do not have the patience for your attitude. Do you know why Ah did all that?"

Remy's mouth was hanging open slightly, and he looked dumbfounded, though not as much as she would have hoped. Rogue pressed on, ignoring the slightly suspicious feeling at that glint in his eyes.

"Ah did all that, because Ah. Love. You. Stupid."

His eyes widened, but not in surprise, she realized with a jolt. In triumph.

"Chere, y' have no idea how long Remy been waitin' t' hear y' say dat."

The slightly suspicious feeling burst into a full blown disgust as she watched the grin slowly spreading across his face and realized she'd been had.

"Oh mah Lord, Remy, ya planned this!"

"Moi?" His face was innocent, but if there was one thing Rogue had learned on her last trip to Louisiana-besides the fact that the smell Remy always seemed to emanate was actually spices sold in the French Quarter-it was that when Remy LeBeau looked innocent, he was the exact opposite.

She glared up into his smirking face. "You- you did it deliberately! Ya left me with a note so Ah'd admit to how Ah felt an' come after ya!"

His slow smile was all the answer she needed. She punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Ya idiot! What if Ah didn't come after ya?"

He shrugged. "But y' did, chere. An' now dat y' here…" he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her close.

She batted him away and stepped back, unwilling to admit to how good it felt to have him close to her. "Ah'm still mad at you, Swamp Rat."

His gorgeous eyes twinkled at her. "Ah, mais y' callin' Remy pet names. Mus' not be too mad."

"Shut up, Cajun," she muttered, allowing him to once again draw her near with his hands at her waist. "You're impossible," she informed him. He smirked.

"You love it."

Rogue smiled at him for the first time since bursting through the door. "Yeah, Ah really do." She frowned again. "But don't think that means ya're off the hook, Cajun."

* * *

><p>Jean-Luc LeBeau understood a lot of stuff. He understood how to pick pockets, and how to disarm alarm systems, and how to fight Rippers off with nothing but a bo staff and a pair of dress shoes. He had heard all about Rogue from his younger son after the incident with the kidnapping, and he was quite aware of how Remy felt about her. Jean-Luc LeBeau understood a lot of things.<p>

But one thing he did not understand was the scene being played out before him now. As Remy and the fiery little woman he was currently hugging close to himself conversed in decibels varying from husky to deafeningly screeching, the King of Thieves turned to Tante Mattie, the woman who understood everything, and said bluntly, "Que diable?"

The woman smiled indulgently and patted him on the cheek. "Oh, chil'." She went back to watching her bebe and his girl interact with a joyous smile on her face. Jean-Luc turned in bewilderment to his oldest son, Henri. Henri simply shrugged, looking just as confused as his father.

"Remy, you're an idiot."

"Y've said dat, chere."

"An Ah'll say it again, probably lots more. You took an awful big risk jus' takin' off lahke that. What if Ah hadn't... what if the professor hadn't let me come?"

He smirked, white teeth in a tan face flashing under smoldering red eyes and shrugged. "Y'd a come. Remy knew."

"Knew?"

"Dat y' love moi," he said easily. "Y' said it every way y' could t'ink of dat didn't actually involve words, an' Remy knows all 'bout y' trust issues-"

"Hey!"

"So all Ah had t' do was push. So Ah left, an made sure t' leave de note where y'd find it quick, an' here we are!"

Rogue glared at him. "Yeah, after Ah've traveled all the way down the East Coast on a motorcycle."

"Oui. But it sounded like y' 'ad fun. Met some nice people..."

She snorted. He grinned. "Or not?"

She ticked them off on her fingers. "Purple-haired telepath who knew mah name, homicidal maniac obsessed with chimichangas, hypnotist, and various gas station managers and bartenders who were all very interested in the two of us an' our story."

He stared at her. "Y' tol' dem _all _de whole t'ing?"

It was her turn to smirk at him. "Well, some of them missed certain parts, since the dang thing kept gettin' longer an' longer every time Ah met someone knew."

He shook his head. "Roches." She grinned wider. "An' they all wanna meet you."

He scowled. "Dang it."

Amused, she shrugged. "Your own fault, Swamp Rat."

A gleam came into his firey red eyes at that. "So, chere," he purred. Rogue shifted uncomfortably, knowing that tone of voice very well. When Remy's voice dropped low and sexily like that, it meant that he was seriously contemplating testing the limits of her mutation, and when she refused, as she inevitably would, embarrassing her in some way. And while knocking him unconscious wasn't exactly a problem anymore, she wasn't sure she wanted him to find out about her new control by way of teasing.

"What?" she asked hesitantly, proud that her voice didn't shake. He leaned closer.

"Dat hypnotist..."

She shivered. Dang, he was so close... he hadn't been this close in so long. She leaned toward him almost unconsciously.

Remy grinned again. "He didn' make y' do anyt'in'... interestin' while under de influence did he?"

She blinked, looking briefly inwards at Patrick Jane, who was standing calmly by Logan's psyche and smiling broadly. "Uh, no."

He looked disappointed, but a small smile was still hovering on his lips, one Rogue was sure wouldn't be going anywhere for a long time. She doubted even threat of decapitation via Wolverine would wipe that smile from his face. It hadn't budged since she'd said she loved him. "Y' sure?" he asked hopefully.

She hid a smile of her own at that. What a perfect lead in to what she'd been planning to show him. "Wey-all..." she drawled. "He did do one thing..."

He grinned down at her eagerly. "Well? Y' gonna tell Remy?"

Rogue laughed. "Mais oui, Swamp Rat. Ah'll tell ya. In fact, if ya promise me that ya never gonna be so stupid an' leave me again, Ah'll be tellin' ya every day fo' the rest of our lives."

Remy looked puzzled. "Chere, y' know dat Ah love y', an' dat Ah always will, an' barrin' missions an' such, Remy ain' never gon' leave y', mais... what does dat 'ave t' do-"

"Shh," she covered his mouth with her fingers. "Lemme show you..."

Slowly, inch by inch, Rogue pulled away. Remy let her go, thoroughly confused now, but willingly playing along. She tugged at one of her gloves, torturously baring her palm, and then five slim, pale fingers. She watched Remy's eyes follow the glove up her hand hungrily, the sight of bare skin where it was almost never seen like a magnet, drawing his gaze.

When her hand was at last bare, free from the glove, and deliciously cool in the heat of the bayou house, Rogue lifted her eyes to Remy's and smiled at him. His eyes met hers and he breathed in sharply, the implications of such an act on her part hitting home finally.

"Chere..." he gasped.

And then she was pressed up against him, smoothing her bare hand over his lips, stopping the words before they could enter the air and break into a million pieces. His red eyes had closed the instant her bare skin touched his, and he leaned into the fingers tracing his jawline and almost moaned when she pulled them away briefly.

"Rogue..."

But now both hands were free, and together they mapped the face their mistress loved, the strong lines, the narrow creases, the slight dips. His nose, his lips, his gorgeous, amazing eyes, closed under her hands and quivering just so slightly beneath the lids. Everything she'd wanted, literally right at her fingertips.

Some of those watching had lost interest already, and wandered off to other, more exciting happenings than their wayward prince and his girlfriend. The remaining few watched the performance before them in fascinated stupefaction. As the stripe-haired _fille _who had crashed through the door-on a motorcycle of all things-drew off her gloves, they felt inexplicably that something momentous was happening. Some of them held their breath as she began to touch the Prince's face. Jean-Luc, knowing about Rogue's mutation, stifled a surprised yelp. Tante Mattie was smiling so wide, her face seemed to be nearly split in two.

Henri LeBeau was confused. He loved his younger brother to death, oui, but that didn't change the fact that half of the things the young mutant did or said completely baffled him. Right now, he was having trouble comprehending the significance of what was going on before him. Because it was so obviously significant in some way, but Henri just wasn't getting it.

Now, the Rogue-fille was stroking the sides of his petite frere's face, staring up into his eyes. The entire scene had the feeling of that sappy romance movie that Merci had dragged him to the one time. One time. And one time only.

Really.

The point was, Henri LeBeau knew enough about scenes like this to know what was supposed to happen next. That wasn't why he was confused. The reason he was confused had to do with the fact that he was pretty sure that what was supposed to happen next was actually supposed to have happened about five or six minutes ago. Why were they just standing there, touching each other's faces?

"Mon Seigneur! Jus' kiss him already, so's de rest o' us can 'ave some piece of mind!"

Henri's outburst startled everyone, including Remy and Rogue, but served as a catalyst for what they'd been building up to anyway.

"Chere-"

She cut him off brilliantly, like she'd wanted to so many times before, with her mouth on his, thoroughly occupying his lips with something other than words.

Henri threw up his hands muttering, "Enfin," and stalking away. Tante Mattie grunted in satisfaction and went to make cookies. Jean-Luc experienced an unusual drop of moisture in his left eye, but it was blinked away within seconds, and so could have arguably not existed at all. The remaining Thieves looked like they weren't quite sure what was going on-they weren't-but shrugged and smiling happily, went on their way.

The two mutants ignored them all, as they had from the moment Rogue had crashed Logan's motorcycle through the doors.

They wouldn't have been able to say anything anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter took a flippin' long time to write. Like, really. **

**Hello, Remy. You're actually here!**


	20. Epilogue: The Motorcycle

**Disclaimer: Stan, this fic is a product of our love! Your characters, my plot. The rights to X-Men: Evolution are inconsequential in the face of this miracle! We're creating life! Stan, this fanfic... is our baby!**

**A/N: This chapter, the last chapter, is dedicated to everyone who did not get a personal chapter dedication, mainly those who were new reviewers for me. I've made new friends this fic, and it's been a pleasure to hear from you. Thank you all so much.**

**gambitfan85, ALLREMS, Devil-in-a-Redhead, tmmdeathwishraven, tfobmv18, xLebeaux, Kii-g-14, Raven34link, Warrior-princess-1980, Cowgrl94, ruroca57, virgo angelnine4, TaiOokamiYoukai, Beatlesrock101, Lorelei Cecily, Happy Little Girl, I-love-red-head-ninjas, Eve Hale, Dreamlover1102, ShadowedSaint, slientdreamer126, DarkLatinAngel, LaylaYuy, catycat010, Arich, xXxJessikaxXx, annacat721, Shadow-The Black Queen, and EvrAnge.**

**I feel like I'm bragging by writing all these names, but I wanted to make sure everyone got mentioned, even if your dedication isn't individual. Thank you all so much, once again. **

* * *

><p>Epilogue: The Motorcycle<p>

* * *

><p>New Orleans, Louisiana- The LeBeau Mansion<p>

_Ten days after Remy left a note on Rogue's pillow..._

Leaving Tante Mattie and the LeBeaus was harder than Rogue had thought it would be. Not because they'd grown close, or she'd become attached, but simply because Tante didn't want them to leave.

"But, Remy, chil', y' jus' got here!" she wailed.

Remy smiled at her fondly. "Ah, ma Tante, Remy gotta go wit' his chere. Dat be de whole reason fo' dis little trip."

She sniffed. "Y' mean y' didn' come t' see y' poor ol' Tante?"

His red and black eyes twinkled. "Tante, y' an ol' schemer is what y' are, an' guilt trippin' ain' gon' work wit' dis Cajun. Ah've met wit' de best... she's standin' over dere actually." He pointed at Rogue, who waved awkwardly. Tante Mattie stopped sniffling and drew herself up to her full height of five feet and four inches.

"Remy LeBeau, y' take good care o' dat fille, y' hear Tante? 'Cause Ah'll be knowin' if y' don', an' y' won't like de cons'quences!"

He gave her a pained look. "Don' Remy know it, Tante. Y' ain't de only one gon' take a piece outta Remy's hide if he hurts her. Not," he added quickly. "Dat dat's ever gon' happen."

Rogue coughed discreetly in her place by their parked motorcycles. Tante glared up at him.

"Well? Get on wit' ya! Y' keepin' de lady waitin'!"

He threw up his hands. "_Bon Seigneur! Je suis entouré par des femmes autoritaires!"_

Rogue laughed. "You know it, _bebe_. Now get your butt over here, an' let's go, _allons-nous_?"

He glared at her. "Cheeky, li'l femme."

She grinned at him. "You love me. Now let's go!"

He sauntered over to his red and black Harley and swung astride it, his trench coat flaring out then settling around him as he got comfortable.

Rogue felt her mouth go dry. Did he have any idea how incredibly hot he looked when he did that? Especially when he leaned back just like...

Wait.

Her eyes snapped to his face to find him smirking at her. She scowled. "Swamp Rat, Ah swear, one of these days..."

He laughed and revved the bike. "C'mon, Roguey," he teased. "Let's go."

She straddled Logan's motorcyle grumpily, making sure her leather-covered leg stretched out as far as it would go for his benefit. She settled herself like a cat, instinctively stretching and twisting a little.

She glanced up at Remy and gulped when she saw the look on his face. Normally, she'd say that face was sexy. Now, she thought it looked a little dangerous.

"Chere," he said pleasantly. She could hear the purr behind the pet name and swallowed. "If y' actually be wantin' t' get on de road t' day, y'll be stoppin' wit' de writhin'. Now."

She froze, then tossed him a saucy grin. "Anythang fo' you, sugah," she drawled out. Without another word, she released the clutch on Logan's motorcycle and sped off with a roar. Behind her, Remy yelped and strained to catch up.

* * *

><p>Somewhere, Louisiana<p>

_Ten days after Rogue set out for New Orleans..._

Sissy looked up when the little bell over the door to her saloon jingled and her automatic, "Come on in, have a seat, cher," cut off abruptly. Standing just inside the door was a young woman in a brown motorcycle jacket, whose auburn and white hair was tousled from wearing a helmet. Standing beside her, an arm wrapped around her, was a tall young man wearing a trench coat, with fiery red eyes peering out from a drop-dead gorgeous face.

The Rogue had caught her devil.

"Sissy!" The girl caught the young man by the hand and darted forward eagerly. Sissy smiled to herself and walked around the counter to meet them.

"So dis be de Remy LeBeau Ah've heard so much 'bout."

He looked a little sheepish. "Dat's moi, ma'am."

She looked at Rogue. "Honey, y' weren't kiddin' when y' said he was hot. Ah think de temperature jus' rose in here!"

Remy felt his face grow red, but couldn't help but smirk when he saw his chere's blush too. "Y' mean ma cherie here, been tellin' y' about Remy's looks?" he teased, smiling down at Rogue. She glared a green-eyed glare up at him. "Not one word, Swamp Rat, not one word."

Sissy beamed at them. "Come on! Y' can have some supper an' tell Sissy all 'bout y'self!" She turned and hurried back behind the counter. Remy looked at Rogue, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged with a grin.

The door opened and the bell jingled again.

"Miss Rogue!"

She turned around and smiled. "Tom!"

The young man, wearing a hat that he pushed back on his blonde hair, hollered to the men already taking seats at the bar. "Hey, boys, it be Miss Rogue, come back from de Bayou! An' it looks like she done foun' dat Cajun stupid 'nough t' run from her!"

Remy swallowed and glanced at Rogue as an entire row of large, sweaty, mean-faced men turned around and looked at him. She smirked up at him smugly.

"Payback's a git, Swamp Rat."

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

_Ten days after the Brotherhood appeared on the X-mansion's doorstep..._

Professor Xavier made a noise. Everyone ignored him. He cleared his throat.

"Rogue... appears to be on her way home."

Everyone ignored him.

"With Remy." No one looked up. He glanced around and sighed. Why did no one ever listen to him?

Wade, Logan, and Betsy were continuing their ongoing conversation.

"D' you think I'll ever get to meet this guy?" Wade asked, sounding wistful. Logan snorted.

"From what Nosy over here's been tellin' me, her an' Rogue are gonna be regular pals, so I'd say that's likely."

"Yay! I wanna show him this cool thing I learned how to do to squirrels. See, you grab their livers and _twist _just so..."

Logan tuned him out.

* * *

><p>Pietro was staring into space. Actually, he'd been staring into space for the last day and a half.<p>

The Brotherhood boys-with the exception of Lance, who was still staring at Kitty- were getting nervous.

"Yo, Pietro's never been quiet for this long before. What did you do to him, foo?"

This last was directed at the monitor showing Patrick Jane's too-innocently smiling face.

"Me?"

"Yeah," Freddy put in. "Ever since you did that thing with the quarter, he's been all glassy-eyed and... quiet!"

Jane beamed. "I know! Isn't it great?"

"Jane!" Lisbon's voice was decidedly unhappy. "You used hypnosis on a minor?"

"Lisbon, darling, he's a mutant with super-speed. I'm sure he'll be okay. And it'll wear off soon anyway."

While she sputtered over "darling," Freddy glanced over his shoulder. "You know? I kinda hope it doesn't."

* * *

><p>Somewhere, Mississippi<p>

_Thirteen days after Patrick Jane was "asked" to take a "vacation" from the CBI..._

"What?"

Rogue placed her elbows on the table in front of her and sipped from the straw in her iced tea. "You heard me."

"Ah mean... dat's... Remy never..."

She smiled at him. Remy stared at the woman before him in shock. "So lemme get dis straight.Y' tol' every single person y' met 'bout where y' were goin' an' why, an' _none _o' dem turned out t' be anti-mutant or serial killers, or jus' general creeps who wanna take advantage of a _belle fille _travelin' alone?"

She grinned at him smugly. He continued. "An' on top of all dat, one o' dese guys jus' so happens to meet y' in _dis _diner, sit at _dis _table wit' y', an' be de very person who can help y' control y' mutation."

"Yup," she replied, popping the last letter and letting her tongue slide over her lips as she took another sip of her tea. Remy watched her in a sort of daze. She pretended to look up nonchalantly. "Ah guess when ya say it like that it does sound a little conspired."

He gave her a look-the one with the eyebrow. "A li'l?"

She shrugged. "Little, lot. It's all words."

Her Cajun rolled his gorgeous eyes. "Since when is anything "jus' words" t' y'?"

She leaned back and gave him an increasingly smug version of his favorite grin. "Ah'm lettin' the peace of the universe flow through me."

Beat.

"What?"

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

_Thirteen days after Kitty and Lance had their... four hundred fifty-first fight..._

"She's coming home, she's coming home, she's coming home-"

"Yeah, alright, we get it, she's coming home! Now could you please stop skipping around and singing, Pretty Kitty?"

There was silence for a minute.

"Did you just call me-"

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up."

* * *

><p>Somewhere, Mississippi<p>

_Sixteen days after Remy told John he was going to New Orleans in an attempt to make Rogue admit her love for him (a fact that apparently slipped Johnny's mind in the subsequent conversation with Rogue)..._

Tony didn't look up when the bells over the gas station door rang. He just mumbled a hello and went back to tallying the cash in the register.

He didn't hear the muffled, "No, Remy, you may NOT rob the place blind. Behave."

When the thump of leather boots on tiled floor stopped in front of the counter, Tony forced a smile and finally looked up, intending to say a quick "how's it going, is that all for you?" before going back to his routine. When he saw who was standing there, his smile became a lot less forced.

"Miss Rogue, as Ah live an' breathe!"

She grinned. "Hi, Tony." The young man at her side raised a cool eyebrow, before nodding in recognition.

"Bonjour, mon ami."

Tony hadn't smiled this much at work since his wife Betty had proposed to him by wrapping a note around a chocolate bar he was ringing up for her.

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

_Sixteen days since Kurt survived having bombshell after bombshell dropped on him in one day (honestly, Rogue is in love with Remy, Logan actually trusts somebody with that motorcycle of his, Xavier is letting one of them leave the mansion with no back-up, the Brotherhood is "hanging out," Jamie listens to country music... it's a lot to take in at once)..._

"Logan, baby, I'm just tellin' you-"

"Do not. Call me baby. Ever."

"He's right, sweetie. It's a little weird. Besides, I though I was your baby!"

"You are darling. Now where was I? Oh yeah. The guy with the chain-saw was hacking off my leg..."

* * *

><p>Highway 42, Mississippi<p>

_Sixteen days since Rogue's boots became the most talked about item of apparel between New York and Louisiana..._

The small highway had never seen so much heat in one concentrated area. And that included the Heat Rise of 1973.

Seriously, you could practically see steam.

Two motorcycles were parked on the shoulder of the road. One was unoccupied.

The other, a red and black Harley Davidson, was seating double. A young man dressed in a long brown trench coat was... embracing a young lady with striped hair wearing a pair of knee-high leather boots that were currently propped up on the back-board for the double-seat. The rest of her was in the man's lap.

As far as make-out sessions go, it appeared to be pretty tame. It was the fact that it was happening on the side of the highway that was shocking.

"Get a room!" yelled a young comedian out of his passenger side window as his friend's car drove by.

They ignored him.

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

_Sixteen days after Wanda Maximoff considered the idea of seriously falling in love for the first time..._

"Luv?"

"No."

"You didn' even let me say anything yet!"

"I know you're about to ask if you can have your lighter back, and the answer is no."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll burn something."

"Well, yeah, luv, what else would Oi want tha bloody thing for?"

"No."

"Please?"

_Darn him and those blue eyes of his._

"If you actually damage anything I'm hexing it so it makes ice instead of fire."

"Thanks, luv."

_Did he really just kiss my cheek?_

* * *

><p>Paintsville, Kentucky<p>

_Nineteen days after Wade Wilson escaped from a "secure" mutant-control facility in Venezuela (with help from Nick Fury, which led to the favor being performed in Kentucky)..._

Marco... Palo... someone started in horror as the pretty little _chica _with the stripes in her hair strode through the restaurant doors, boots clomping softly on the wooden floor. His eyes instantly flew to her left shoulder, where-and he sighed in relief-the _loco hombre _with the big swords was _not _present. Then, all the relief left his body, as the current possessor of that obviously popular place turned red and black _ojos de diablo _on him.

Remy stared down at the unconscious waiter before him, a perplexed expression on his face.

"Remy jus' asked him if dey had any open tables."

* * *

><p>Somewhere, New York<p>

_Nineteen and a half days since Betsy Braddock seriously considered tracking down her boyfriend and letting him see his worst nightmare in the form of his girlfriend..._

Rogue's psyches were having a pointless discussion in the back of her mind, which she was ignoring as best she could while riding a motorcycle and simultaneously trying to keep her eyes on Remy.

It was very stressful.

But it was worth it to have Remy back. And back he was, snarky, smirky, sexy Remy LeBeau, teasing her, irritating her, _touching _her every time she came within arm's reach.

Joss, she'd missed him. Even if he was so snappin' annoying sometimes.

Remy shot her a grin from underneath his helmet, a full grin, not a smirk, and she felt her heart melt all over again.

* * *

><p>Kitty's psyche was squealing in the backseat of Scott's car. Up front, Jean and Scott were talking quietly to each other, and trying to ignore the outrageous screeches behind them. Patrick Jane wasn't so fortunate.<p>

Luckily, Jane was the type of person who actively listened to the type of chatter that Kitty Pryde regularly indulged in, and was currently having the time of his life.

Remy and Logan glanced at each other-neither psyche wearing a helmet in Rogue's mind-and rolled their eyes.

* * *

><p>Bayville, New York<p>

_Twenty days after Logan handed Rogue the keys to his motorcycle and she promised not to bang it up..._

The roar of two motorcycles cut the almost still air. Instantly, Kitty, Kurt, Wanda, John, and Logan were on their feet and headed for the door. Professor Xavier and Storm were right behind them, with the Brotherhood-minus Pietro, who still hadn't recovered from the semi-trance state Jane had put him in- and Jean and Scott following. Wade, Betsy, and the two CBI agents complained loudly about not being able to see anything, but were summarily ignored by everyone but Jamie, who paused to offer a sympathetic pat to Lisbon and Jane's monitor before scrambling for the door.

Outside, he found an interesting scene being played out.

Kitty was jumping on Rogue excitedly and babbling a mile a minute. Kurt was barely a step behind her, though he approached more warily, still a little sore about being left out of the "oh yeah, your sister's in love with that guy who kidnapped her three years ago thing." Remy was smiling a little nervously at him, which he appreciated, and when Rogue grabbed him in a hug as Kitty moved on to Remy-simultaneously lecturing and hugging him-he let a grin break out over his fangs and wrapped his arms around his sister, reaching out a two-fingered hand to Remy at the same time.

"Take care of her, mein freund."

The other man grinned at him and clasped his hand. "Of course."

Ororo stepped up and hugged them both, hard. "I'm so glad you're both back." Rogue smiled at her. "Thanks, 'Ro. It took awhile, but Ah got him."

Remy looked down at her, a fond smirk playing at his mouth. "Y' certainly did, chere."

Professor Xavier cleared his throat and beamed at them. "Welcome back, both of you."

Remy and Rogue ignored him, too busy staring into each other's eyes.

John interrupted their tender moment by flying towards Remy with outstretched arms screaming, "Mate! You've come back! An' look! It worked!"

Wanda glanced over from where she was greeting Rogue. "What worked?"

"Rems' plan ta get Roguey ta admit ta bein' in love with him," the Aussie said casually. Wanda and Rogue stared at him. "What?"

"You knew?"

He looked confused. "Knew what?"

"That Remy set me up."

"Set you up with who? He wouldn't do that, sheila, Rems is head over heels for ya!"

Rogue smacked her forehead. "Joss, it's like interrogating one of those prisoners who only respond with their unit name and serial number!"

Jean and Scott scowled. "You have no idea," Scott told her, glaring at the pyromaniac, who had quickly grown bored with the conversation and wandered off to set the gardenias on fire. The two most senior X-Men watched him with no surprise or even horror in their expressions. Wanda looked at them curiously.

"Aren't you going to try to stop him?"

Jean shook her head and shrugged. "What's the use? He'll just run or chase us with fire-animals again." Scott sighed. "I've kinda gotten used to the random outbreaks of destruction and having the sprinklers come on almost constantly."

Rogue and Remy blinked. "Wow. Ah leave you people alone for a few moments and look what happens, everything's gone to part!"

Remy hugged her to his side. "Aw, it's okay, Roguey. Y' had mo' 'portant t'ings t' do."

She smirked at him. "True," she drawled. He leaned down and kissed her. Jean and Scott sputtered.

"What-? How did-? What the-?"

Rogue laughed and kissed him again. And then again, just 'cause she could. Remy didn't seem to mind.

Wanda caught herself staring wistfully at the couple and turned her head sharply, only to find St. John Allerdyce only two feet away, staring wistfully at her.

Jean tried to comprehend what she was seeing, while Scott tried to figure out exactly how Remy was holding her still while she was kissing him so hard.

* * *

><p>Logan stared in horror at the horrifying picture before him.<p>

"Rogue!" he gasped in a strangled sort of yelp.

She looked over, trailing her Cajun. "Yeah, Logan?"

He pointed. She peered around his arm and said, "What about it?"

"W-w-"

Logan's motorcycle, his pride and joy, leaned on it's kick stand in the driveway next to Remy's red and black Harley. Well, leaned perhaps isn't the correct word. Slouched is more appropriate.

4,934 miles through state after state, rain, cornfields, and the bayous of Louisiana had done a number on the once gleaming surface. Mud covered it almost entirely. Scratches from where sticks and gravel had flown up and made their mark marred the plating. One handle bar and the entire front were twisted almost beyond recognition from Rogue's entrance at the LeBeau's. Logan was practically in tears.

"You promised not to bang her up!"

"Ah didn't!"

The handle bar fell off and hit the blacktop with a dull _clunk_. Rogue winced.

"Chere, if dat's y'r idea o' 'not bangin' her up,' y' ain' never drivin' Remy's bike."

She pouted. "Well sor-ry, Swamp Rat, but who was it that made this trip necessary in tha first place, hmm?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Y' are. Y' and y'r denial."

She scowled. "That ain't fair."

He stepped closer. "All's fair in love an' the distribution of blame, cherie."

She glared up at him. "Then Ah guess this is fair, then?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

She drew back one leather-booted foot and kicked him in the shin.

* * *

><p>While Remy was rolling on the ground in pain, Logan slowly approached the motorcycle as one would attempt to make contact with an injured beast one was trying to help. He knelt beside her and lovingly raised a hand to stroke the damaged paint. "It's okay, girl. We'll fix ya."<p>

Remy pouted up at Rogue from his place on the ground at her feet. "Dat was mean, cherie," he said, rubbing his shin. She smirked at him.

"Don't be such a baby, Swamp Rat. You're fine."

Abruptly, the pout became a smirk and he leaned back away from his own legs, stretching out on the grass like it was a carpet placed in the world for his own personal use as sexy backdrop. Rogue swallowed.

"Why, Roguey," he purred. "Y' don't have t' tell Remy dat. He know's he's fine."

"Why you-"

"Y' too far."

She blinked at the interruption. "What?"

Reaching up, he caught her hand and pulled her down on top of him, leaving them lying in the grass-which was strangely crisp and smelling faintly of smoke-with her sprawled on his chest. He snuggled his face in her hair. "Ahh, dat's better."

* * *

><p>In the back of her mind, Rogue's psyches were sitting on the steps of the mansions porch. Every single one of them had their knees propped up and their chins resting in their hands.<p>

Kitty sighed. "I just like, love happy endings."

Jean smiled. "I'm happy for her. She deserves to be happy."

Scott groaned. "Even with Remy?"

Jean laughed. "Yes, Scott. Even with Remy."

Logan grunted, and since they all felt honored that he'd deigned to enter the conversation at all, they just nodded in agreement and moved on.

Patrick Jane smiled widely. "Good for her. I doubt she could do better."

Scott rolled his eyes. "No, she really could. A _lot_ better."

Jane shrugged. "Tea, anyone?"

Scott waved his hand. "I mean, he's still a thief? He hasn't even _tried _to do any of that reforming he promised us, and-"

Logan's claws slid out suddenly. "Enough. He loves her. An' she loves him. Far as I'm concerned, that's good enough."

There was silence for a minute. Then, Kitty continued her previous line of thinking.

"She looks so... smiley. Rogue's never smiley. Except like, when Remy's around. Then it's like she can't stop. What do you think, Remy? Remy?"

They all stared at him for a minute, then Logan chuckled quietly. "Leave him alone, Half-pint. He ain't here with us anyway."

The Cajun was staring at Rogue, lying with himself in the burnt grass, and smiling up into devil eyes that shone with the light of an angel. Remy's psyche cocked his head a little, and a tiny smile appeared on his lips.

"Je t'aime, cherie. Je t'aime."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This. Story. Is. Done.**

**Wow! It's been a long one guys. Once again, I'd like to thank everyone who read, reviewed, added to favorites or alerts, and those of you who continued conversation with me after reviewing. Thank you all, so, so much.**

**French Translations:**

**Bon Seigneur! Je suis entouré par des femmes autoritaires! - Good Lord! I'm surrounded by bossy women!**

**Je t'aime- I love you**

**Random Trivia about "Red and Black Harley!"**

**-The distance between New York and New Orleans is actually 4,934 miles. I didn't just pull it out of my hat.**

**- Rogue's boots are mentioned at least once in every chapter except for chapter 10, which was pretty much monopolized by Wade and Betsy, and chapter 11, which was kinda taken over by RoR (Recollections of Remy).**

**- Tony, Sissy, and Tom were all representatives of and derived from one person mentioned in verse two of the song "Little Red Rodeo." He was a gas station manager, but between the three of them, they all fulfilled his purpose.**

**- At least two people in the fic quoted Jack Sparrow, and one of them quoted themselves from the comics.**

**- The scene/time breaks in this chapter are all events that happened on the same day in continuity. The day Remy left a note on Rogue's pillow and left for Nawlins.**

**Well, it's the end of the road (pun intended). Do you two wanna say anything?**

_**Y' wanna say it, Ashy?**_

_**Nah, 'sokay, luv, you can say it.**_

_**Bon den. See y' in de archives, ev'ry one.**_

_**Good job, luv.**_

_**Don' call Indy love.**_

**And so it goes... **


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